


Serendipitous Fate

by SKayLanphear



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action, Angst, Awkward First Times, Bee Miraculous, Blood, Canon verse, DJWifi, EXPLICIT CONTENT WILL BE WARNED ABOUT AT THE BEGINNING OF RELATIVE CHAPTERS, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Fun, Humor, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Peacock Miraculous, Plot, Reveal Fic, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Silly, Slow Build, Smut, Teamwork, Tortue de Fer/Alya, Turtle Miraculous, Violence, With lots of things, adrienette - Freeform, also, and the big one, awkward teenagers, but an explicit rating does not accurately describe this story, even though there will be some, everything an epic story needs ;), it'll be good, ladrien, make sure you pay attention to the author notes, miraculous histories, new miraculous users, nobody freak out, nor does it adhere to the preferences of those who seek out explicit stories, other miraculous, post-reveal, previous miraculous users, probable smut in the future, so if that's not something you want to read, so just take deep breaths, teenage discovery, the rating of this story will not be changing to explicit, there will be explicit scenes, this is NOT a smut story, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 295,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKayLanphear/pseuds/SKayLanphear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien is excited to reveal his true identity, while Marinette is terrified. But Master Fu says they can't afford to be distant any longer. Chat Noir and Ladybug are meant to work in tandem both in and out of uniform, their strength stemming from the bond created between them. Yet, teenagers are sometimes better at dancing blind than running with wide open eyes, even with the steps laid out before them.</p><p>Steps in the path of an expanding world. Apart, they'll flounder. But together, they might just stand a chance.</p><p>Takes place following season 1.</p><p>PART ONE COMPLETE<br/>Chapters 1 - 10<br/>Word Count: 122,141</p><p>PART TWO COMPLETE<br/>Chapters 11 - 22<br/>Word Count: 172,956</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One - The First Hurdle

"Hmmm, yes, I've been looking for this book for a very long time…" The short, older man had the ancient tome held open, looking at it quizzically as he paced back and forth on the other side of the massage mat. Marinette was sitting on her heels before it, fingers tapping her knees anxiously. Tikki was on her shoulder, not seeming at all perturbed by "Master Fu." And, Marinette supposed, if Tikki trusted him, then she should too.

"Where did you get this book?" he finally asked, looking up at her.

"Ah, er, eh," she fumbled for an explanation, reaching up and scratching her chin thoughtfully. "I… stole it?" She didn't feel like it'd be wise to lie to this man.

"Stole it?" he echoed back, arching an eyebrow. "From who?"

"Uh… a boy in my class." He was still waiting, so she offered up what little else she knew. "His name's Adrien Agreste?"

"Really?" Both Master Fu's eyebrows shot up. " Wayzz." He'd turned toward his back counter, Marinette watching as he seemingly addressed someone there. "I need you to go get Plagg." Gasping, Marinette watched as a tiny, green kwami zipped out from some unknown hiding place.

On her shoulder, Tikki buzzed as though pleased.

"Of course, Master," Wayzz agreed.

"Make sure he comes here," Master Fu said quite firmly. "He won't want to, so be sure Chat Noir knows."

"Right." The two nodded, Wayzz then zipping out a nearby window and off into the city.

"Plagg?" Marinette questioned as Master Fu turned back to her. "Chat Noir? You mean, he's going to come here?" She pointed down at the mat, as if to accentuate exactly where Chat Noir would be showing up.

"Yes. I believe he will know more about the origins of this book." Master Fu had carefully closed the tome.

"I- I should transform then," she said.

"Why?"

"Chat Noir and I- We haven't shared our identities with one another."

She wasn't quite sure why, but Master Fu actually looked disappointed. He pursed his lips as he looked at her, Marinette feeling abruptly ashamed beneath his heavy gaze.

She reached up and fiddled with one of her pigtails.

"I think it's time that you did, then," he said sternly. "You and Chat Noir are partners. You must learn and grow together. While most miraculouses exist as separate entities of each other, Plagg and Tikki are one, split into two. They are most effective when they are used together."

"Well, we still work together…" Marinette defended quietly.

"And you will work much better together if you know one another. Hawkmoth is learning to use his miraculous just as well as you, and he will grow stronger. So you and Chat Noir must also grow stronger. Separated, you will not be strong enough, but together, in tandem, nothing he throws your way will be able to stand up against you."

Despite Marinette's hesitation, she supposed she couldn't disagree with that. It did make things harder, keeping their identities from one another. If they knew each other, then they could organize. They could keep in contact instead of slipping around in the dark, hoping the other would show up when needed. And she did trust Chat Noir. He was a good friend and partner. But knowing him behind the mask… It was nerve-wracking, the idea of it twisting inside her gut until she felt nauseous.

"Do not fret," Master Fu said with a soft smile. "You and Chat Noir will get along fine. You would not be compatible as partners, or with the miraculouses, if you could not."

She nodded, supposing there was no longer any choice in the matter.

Chat Noir would be there soon and she had best be prepared for his arrival.

**oOo**

"Wait, I saw you in the book!" Adrien said as the green kwami floated down in front of him. "You're the turtle one!"

"I am," he agreed, sounding far more adult than Plagg ever did. Plagg, who was sitting on the couch beside him, hardly paying any attention as he stuffed his face with camembert. "My master has sent for you and wishes you would join him. He has come into possession of a certain tome that supposedly came from you."

"Your master has my dad's book?!" Adrien squawked. "I need that back! Before he finds out!"

"That is for you and my master to discuss," Wayzz—as he'd introduced himself—went on. "Until then, you must make haste to meet him. He and Ladybug are waiting."

Adrien could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest. "Ladybug is there?" he asked quietly.

"She, as she put it, 'stole' the book from you. It was her kwami that prompted her to bring it to my master." Plagg did finally float up to listen then, seeming more interested now that they were talking about Ladybug.

" _Ladybug_ stole my book?" Adrien asked incredulously. "Why?"

"You're asking questions I cannot answer."

"Right, right." Adrien huffed, standing as he did. "He wanted to meet now?" Wayzz nodded. "Well, no time like the present. Plagg? Are you ready?"

"We have to _transform_?" Plagg whined.

"There is no need for that," Wayzz interjected. "Master Fu's residence is not far from here and he knows your identity. It was he who chose you to wield the miraculous." This did cause Adrien pause, his eyes blinking somewhat stupidly as his thoughts came together.

"Wait… then Ladybug won't be transformed either?"

"My master thinks it's best that you both finally reveal yourselves to one another—that it will enable you to be more productive as a partnership."

"I'm going to _meet_ Ladybug?" Adrien muttered, Wayzz scrunching his bulbous forehead together in skeptical curiosity. "I mean, out of the mask? She's waiting for me? I'm going to get to know who she is?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

"Plagg!" Adrien grabbed the kwami by his tiny body before shoving him into his bag. "Let's go! I'm ready! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Wayzz gave him one more skeptical look before shaking his green head and zipping into Adrien's bag as well. Supposing he had to get out of the house before he'd know where to go, Adrien set about sneaking away. It wasn't that difficult, seeing as he did it all the time as Chat Noir. His father was at work and Nathalie was distracted in her office. Keeping quiet, he toed his way to the back door before sprinting as fast as he could out the gate, which was, thankfully, still open from his return home.

As soon as he was safely out and standing along the wall, he opened his bag for Wayzz.

"This way," the kwami said. "It's not far." He took off across the street, Adrien only looking quickly both ways before jogging after.

When Wayzz had said it wasn't far, he really hadn't been exaggerating. His master's "home" was on one of the same streets Adrien's house was on. Granted, his house was literally surrounded by four different streets, but the point still stood. They were only one street over from the school, among the line of shops that ran along the park—Place des Voges—and across from Chloe's father's hotel. Thankfully, Wayzz took them down past the hotel, to a little sliver of a place that advertised massages.

That was where the kwami slipped inside.

Looking both ways simply because it seemed like the safe thing to do, Adrien solidified that the coast was clear before he edged inside as well. The sign out front said they were closed, and as the door shut out the sound of traffic behind him, a hush came over the small lobby.

No one was there—no one waiting and no one behind the front desk. Creeping forward, Adrien took in the ornate Chinese decorations and characters, reading a few, but ultimately deciding that they were of no relevance.

He followed Wayzz to a hallway in the back, Plagg zipping out of his bag as they went. The old hardwood creaked a bit as they walked, but Adrien remained brave. He was going to learn more about his father's book and he was going to get to meet Ladybug. And another miraculous holder.

This was turning out to be the best afternoon ever.

His heart was barely caged in his chest it was beating so swiftly with nerves and excitement.

"Here," Wayzz said, pausing for just a moment beside the door on the far end of the hallway. Without another word, he flashed right through the wood and onto the other side. Adrien looked once at Plagg (which wasn't at all reassuring) before he reached for the door and slowly pulled it open.

The room beyond was bright, a single man standing before a long, wooden dresser on the other side of a massage mat. He had his hands clasped behind his back, gray hair combed back against his head. He smiled just a bit as Adrien entered, the door closing behind.

"Hello, Chat Noir," he greeted.

"Uh, hi," he replied, Wayzz zipping up into view beside his master. "I was told to come here, right?" Glancing quickly around the room, he found nothing inherently suspicious. He also found no Ladybug.

"Right you are," the old man said. "I am Master Fu. Thank you for sparing the time to come speak with me."

"Sure thing," Adrien replied, smiling politely. "Is, uh, I was told Ladybug was here." He looked around again, just for good measure, but his partner didn't show up out of any nooks or crannies.

"She's here," Master Fu verified, Adrien's attention snapping back to him. "She was nervous about meeting you and excused herself to the restroom. To gather her courage, I presume."

"Oh…" Adrien wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "How, uh, how long's she been in there?"

"A little over eight minutes."

"Ah…" Adrien pooched his lips, tapping his thighs in the silence. "So… you're a miraculous holder too?"

"I am."

"Cool, cool. And you picked me for Plagg?"

"I did."

"Awesome…"

"Hey, old man." Plagg zoomed right up to Master Fu, Adrien's eyes widening at the kwami's audacity. "You got any cheese?"

Master Fu sighed, quite as though the whole thing were old hats to him, and Adrien relaxed a bit.

"You never change, do you?" he asked.

"Can't stop, won't stop," Plagg said in English, scooting around in the air in a sort of dance. He'd probably been watching Miley Cyrus music videos again. Adrien needed to remember to password lock his computers.

Before anything else could be said of the kwami's behavior, however, a red blur came zooming in through the wall on the right, stopping to float beside Master Fu, Plagg, and Wayzz. Adrien quickly realized it was another kwami—a red kwami with black spots.

It could only be…

"Ladybug?" Master Fu questioned.

The little kwami sighed. "She's refusing to come out," said her high-pitched voice.

Adrien frowned.

"Really?" Master Fu said, not seeming the least bit bothered by the situation. "Did she give a reason why?"

"She's too nervous," the red kwami—Tikki, Adrien remembered—explained. "She's afraid Chat Noir won't like her." With those words, Tikki turned to look at him, a flash of surprise flitting across her little face at the sight of him. He shifted, but didn't say anything. "Adrien Agreste," she said, zipping up until she was hovering right in front of his nose.

"You know me?" he asked.

"Yes!" Tikki said, smiling and twirling as she did. "We-"

"Now, now, Tikki," Plagg interrupted, floating lazily on his back up between them. "Don't give it away. Let them figure some things out for themselves." Tikki didn't look the least bit excited to see Plagg, her expression dropping at the very sight of him. "You're such a mother hen sometimes."

"And you're as ridiculous as ever," she countered.

"What can I say? I like to stay consistent."

Tikki actually rolled her eyes.

"Why is Ladybug afraid I won't like her?" Adrien asked. "I'm _pretty_ sure that's impossible."

"She lets her nerves get the better of her sometimes," Tikki replied, sighing as she did. "And she'll be even more nervous once she realizes who you are."

"Why?" Adrien cringed. "Is she a fan or something?"

"No, not like that," Tikki assured, smiling again. "You know each other."

"We do?!" Adrien gaped, eyes popping wide.

" _Tikki_ ," Plagg practically scolded.

"Alright, alright, I won't say anything else," she said, sticking her tongue out in Plagg's general direction. "But she won't come out."

"Perhaps," Master Fu drew all their attention, "Chat Noir should talk to her." He nodded to the door on the right knowingly, Adrien swallowing hard.

"O-okay," he agreed. Taking that as some sort of cue, Master Fu stepped around the mat and slowly made his way to the door. Walking out, all three kwami followed him, silence falling heavy on the room when the door closed behind them.

Looking again to the bathroom, which must have been behind the sliding screen against the right wall, Adrien lowered his bag to the floor before slowly approaching.

Once at the door, he laid his hands gently against the screen and tried to come up with something to say.

He cleared his throat. "My Lady?"

She actually squeaked on the other side.

"Ladybug…?"

"Go away, Chat!" Her words were meant to be harsh, but mostly they just sounded scared. Which he could understand—he was scared too. But he wanted to know her too badly to let that sway his courage.

Based on her voice, he was guessing she was sitting on the floor. So he crouched down until he was on her level.

"C'mon, Ladybug," he said softly. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just me."

No response.

"Tikki said you were afraid I wouldn't like you," he murmured. "It doesn't matter who you are, My Lady. I could never dislike you." Even if she was someone like Chloe. Because, no matter her identity, she was still his Lady. Nothing would change that.

He could hear her shaky breathing on the other side, but still she said nothing.

"Tikki told me we know each other," he added.

"We do?" That got her to speak.

"Yeah." He smiled to himself. "I can't think of anyone I know that I dislike, so your fears must be impossible. Even if you were Chloe Bourgeois, I'd still like you." But he already knew that she wasn't, thankfully.

"Do we go to the same school?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, despite her not being able to see. "If you come out, we'll know."

"What if you're… What if you're disappointed?" She sounded so meek. He wished she wasn't so afraid of him.

"I could never be," he said honestly. "It's not like our masks make us different people, My Lady. Taking away your spots won't change anything."

"I still have spots…" she said quietly.

Adrien grinned. "Yes, you do." Because he'd seen her freckles plenty of times. "Please, Ladybug. I promise there's nothing to be afraid of."

There was a long pause before she spoke again. "I can't," she whispered, Adrien's heart falling to his feet. "But… you can come in… I just- I won't look. And then you'll know who I am, okay?"

"You don't want to know who I am?" He was smiling again—because progress was progress.

"Maybe after you know who I am…" So she could get over her fears.

"Are you sure?"

"I… Yes."

Okay…" Taking a deep, steadying breath, he gripped the edge of the screen. "I'm going to open the door now, alright?" There was no objection, so he took that as permission enough. Nerves sparking all over him, he gradually slid the door on its rails, the wood scraping just a bit as he did.

And as he pulled it aside, a figure—sitting against the wall with her head bowed between her knees—slowly came into view.

Pink shoes, pink pants. Black shirt with white underneath. Pigtails.

Marinette.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He recognized her right away, without the flashy display that was Ladybug. His breath caught in his chest as he did, because he really did know Ladybug. They didn't just go to the same school, they were in the same _class_. She sat _right_ _behind_ him. Ladybug had been sitting behind him this whole time!

She didn't look up, even though she must have known he could see her. He imagined her eyes were tightly closed, as tightly as her hands were gripping her elbows, which were wrapped around her knees and head. Knuckles white, her toes pointed in atop the paneled floor.

Adrien couldn't stop smiling.

Still in a crouch, he stretched forward until he was close to her. Turning his back to the wall, he slid down beside her, so he was sitting too. They were so close that his own over-shirt brushed hers, causing her to tense even further.

Reaching out, he let his arm fall gently around her shoulders. "It's okay," he whispered, lips continually forming a smile despite how he tried to remain serious. "I'm not disappointed, Marinette." He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

Though he seemed calm, his thoughts were racing. It was obvious now, he realized. Ladybug and Marinette were carbon copies of one another. Same hair, same confidence (even if, for whatever reason, she'd always seemed nervous around him. But he tried not to think about that then). Same no-nonsense attitude with a flare of sass, even if it was more apparent in Ladybug than Marinette. And the same kindness too, and forgiving compassion.

Really, it didn't make sense for Ladybug to be anyone else.

She didn't look up at him right away, and he didn't force her. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he waited. Until, finally, she began to shift. Bit by bit, she turned her head, until she was peeking up at him just barely out of the corner of her eye.

An eye that grew exponentially wider when she, no doubt, realized who he was.

His own discomfort began to rise.

"A- _Adrien_?" she squeaked out, still keeping her face hidden between her knees.

"Ah…" He shrugged. "The one and only?" He couldn't quite tell if he was smiling anymore, or cringing. Or even which was more appropriate.

It was then, like the spell had been broken, that she finally sat up. Lips parted, eyes wide, she looked up at him, Adrien pulling his arm back from around her shoulders to instead rub his own in unease.

She was just staring at him, blinking, saying nothing. And he honestly didn't know what that meant. For all his relief and quiet delight at Marinette being Ladybug, he couldn't tell what she thought of him at all—not as Adrien or Chat Noir, really. As Chat she was always bantering, but nothing ever got serious. And as Adrien, she barely talked to him.

They'd gotten on fine the few times they had hung out, but that wasn't enough to gauge anything. What if she was the one who was disappointed?

That would be horrible.

It was as that thought was running through his head that she reached out to him. He almost shied away, but she grabbed his chin before he could. Manhandling him, she turned his head first one way and then another, as if trying to verify that he really was who he said he was. And, in the end, he let her, supposing she must be shocked.

Yet, despite manipulating his head into every angle, she still wore a look of sheer disbelief. It was then that she reached up toward his hair. He didn't even try and stop her, allowing her to muss the locks until the part was centered.

Until he had his Chat hair.

Like she'd touched a hot iron, she gasped, hand flying from his person. Both her hands ended up cupping her mouth, blue eyes even wider as she leaned away from him.

Reaching up, Adrien pursed his lips and went about putting his hair back into place, more nervous than he was letting on. But Marinette clearly needed more time than he had and it was probably better to give her as much as she needed.

"You really are Chat Noir," she eventually managed to whisper out, hands still held up in front of her lips. Adrien had finally managed to get his hair back into place, her words drawing his gaze to her as a slight flush coated his cheeks.

"Is- Is that okay?" Because she really wasn't giving him anything to go on.

She blinked, hands finally falling to her lap as she crossed her legs beneath her.

"You've been Chat Noir this whole time…" she continued.

"Yeah, I think so?" He really didn't know what to say.

Her focus fell away from him, expression pale as she furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully. He wanted to know what she was thinking, what she thought of him. If she liked him more or less now, and what her reaction meant. In fact, her slow response was getting to him so badly that he began to fidget nervously.

"Marinette…?"

Her eyes flicked quickly back to him. "Yes?!" She said the word far too loudly. "I mean, okay. Yes. You're Adrien. You're Chat Noir. Yes. Okay." She still didn't look like she was totally on board with the situation.

"You're… upset." Because what else was he supposed to think.

"No!" She cut in quickly. "I'm just- just really surprised, is all. I… I didn't imagine- You're not like- It's fine. Everything's fine."

"It doesn't sound like it's fine…" he said, retreating a bit into his shoulders as he leaned away from her. None of this was making him feel any better. In fact, now he was almost regretting having revealed their identities. She wasn't giving him anything to work with and he didn't like it. What did it mean? " _You're_ the one that's disappointed, aren't you?"

Her eyes grew wide again. "No!" She practically breathed out the word. "Adrien- Chat- No, I'm not." Her fingers fiddled together in her lap. "I really am just surprised, that's all. I'm not disappointed, or upset, or anything. A-actually, this is good." He didn't have to say anything for her to know she needed to elaborate. "A relief, maybe…" Some of the tension finally trickled from her posture. "To know that Chat isn't some… crazy street hoodlum."

Adrien gaped. "Excuse me?!"

"Well, what did you expect me to think?!" she rebuked, arms crossing harshly over her chest. "You're always acting like some kind of mangy tom cat in black, skin tight clothing! Perfect model Adrien Agreste doesn't exactly come to mind!"

"I am not mangy!" he replied, his own arms crossing much like hers had. "And I'm not some perfect model either!"

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Have you two sorted everything out?" Master Fu's voice snapped both of their attention up, the two abruptly aware that they were sitting on a bathroom floor, arguing. Somehow, Adrien wasn't surprised.

Glancing quickly back to Marinette, he saw that she was biting the inside of her cheek, a light blush coating her freckles. She refused to look back at him, but it was no longer for fear of him. Rather, he read it as stubbornness, which was much more Ladybug.

And far easier to relate to.

Finally, his own nerves seeped away some, a small grin pulling onto his lips. A grin that quickly turned into a smirk when she only quickly looked at him, before avoiding eye contact completely. She huffed.

"Yeah, everything's sorted," Adrien said, still watching Marinette as he spoke. "Isn't that right, Bugaboo?"

She stuck out her tongue in disgust and he loved it.

"Then, if you'd both come out of the bathroom, I'd like to speak with you about this book." That was, get back to serious matters. Ripping his attention from Marinette, Adrien watched as Master Fu headed back over to the mat, their three kwami hovering about nearby.

Supposing any more talk with Marinette would have to wait, he consciously held himself back from glancing her way again and stood. Stepping out of the bathroom, he was only vaguely aware of how she followed, the two of them heading across the small room until they were standing in front of the mat. With a nod and a gesture from Master Fu, they both sat down. It was then that Master Fu retrieved the book before getting down on his knees across from them.

"Marinette says she stole this book from you," he started, a subtle hint of humor in his tone as Adrien pursed his lips and slowly looked at Marinette.

"So I heard…" he said through gritted teeth.

"It wasn't that simple," she said, ignoring his look. "Lila stole it from you first and then Tikki saw it and said we had to get it. So then I stole it from _her_. After she'd thrown it in the trash. You're lucky," she said, looking right at him then. "I saved your book."

He scoffed and she narrowed a glare at him.

"No matter about all that," Master Fu cut in. "Where did you get this book, Adrien?"

The question made him uncomfortable, now that he was actually having to fess up to it. He shifted a bit, Marinette's glare having turned to curious concern.

"It belonged to my father," Adrien eventually admitted. "I saw him storing it in a secret safe, hidden behind a portrait, and so Plagg and I snuck in and opened it. I wanted to leave the book there, but Plagg thought we should take it."

"With good reason," Plagg replied from where he was nestled quite comfortably in the pillow at the head of the mat.

Master Fu stroked his small beard curiously. "Was there anything else of interest in that safe?"

Adrien tried to think. "I don't think so. There were some of his files, some notebooks. A picture of… of my mother."

"A book on Tibet," Plagg supplied. "And a flyer about a hotel in Tibet."

"Yeah…" Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. "And there was a peacock pin."

Master Fu's eyebrows shot straight up then. "A peacock pin?"

"Uh, yeah…" But Master Fu didn't comment further, instead returning to stroking his beard with a thoughtful hum. Adrien didn't know what to make of that, so he glanced over at Marinette. But she couldn't do more than shrug, the both of them at the mercy of the old master.

"Very interesting," was all he eventually said. "Perhaps you had better take this book back to your father's safe." He shoved the old tome across the mat, much to Marinette and Adrien's surprise.

"But I thought we needed to decrypt it?" Marinette said.

"Yes, perhaps, but I think it would be wiser to return it to where it came from for now," Master Fu explained vaguely. "I doubt it will be going very far, in the safe keeping of Adrien's father."

Wayzz zipped up then. "But Master! We've been look-"

"Enough," Master Fu said simply. "This will do." He nodded to Adrien, then to the book. "Take it back to your father's safe. If no harm has come to it yet, then I doubt any will, locked away in the Agreste mansion. It is, perhaps, safer there than it would be anywhere else."

"Okay, sure…" Adrien agreed, mostly because he had to. Delicate in his handling of the ancient book, he slipped it into his bag.

"But what about what we could learn from it?" Marinette objected.

"All knowledge will come in time," Master Fu said calmly. "Let us leave the book as is for now. Any other questions you have, I would be more than willing to try and answer."

Adrien knew one right away. "Why was Hawkmoth in the book?"

"Hawkmoth is utilizing the powers of the kwami Nooroo. Kwami powers aren't meant to be used for evil—he's abusing his power, and likely holding the kwami prisoner."

"Prisoner?" Marinette asked, concern lacing her voice.

"We are victim to our miraculous," Tikki explained, flitting up between Marinette and Adrien. "Whoever wears the miraculous holds our power. Which is why they absolutely cannot fall into the wrong hands."

"Nooroo has been missing for many eons. I had vainly been searching for the miraculous that holds him, but it would seem I was not fast enough." Master Fu sighed. "And so it falls to the two of you to retrieve it. Before any permanent damage can be done."

"Why does Hawkmoth want our miraculouses?" Marinette asked as Tikki settled onto her shoulder.

"That is a question I cannot answer. The motives of men are often clouded. With the combined powers of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses, great power could be attained, but what he wants to use that power for is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. Whatever it is, we cannot allow it to be fulfilled."

"If we have what he wants, then wouldn't it be simpler to… hide the miraculouses away?" Marinette asked, Adrien whipping around on her at such a suggestion. He didn't want that—Chat Noir was the only freedom he knew and he'd grown quite attached to it. The last thing he wanted was to give up their powers.

"No," Master Fu replied. "It is wrong, what he is using Nooroo for. He must be stopped. The ladybug and black cat are the strongest miraculouses of all. If there's any power that can stop him, it is that which you two wield. A heavy responsibility, but one I feel you are up to carrying." As if on cue, Adrien glanced down at his ring, Marinette reaching up to finger her earrings.

"And now that you two are working together not just on the battlefield, but off, our chances increase even more. It is not enough to simply defeat every akuma Hawkmoth throws your way. Finding him will require diligence and focus, and teamwork. The ladybug and black cat miraculouses are only as strong as their wielders, and only as resilient as the bonds between them. You two must not simply be partners because you are superheroes, but because it is your responsibility to be so."

Adrien wanted to look over at Marinette, but couldn't bring himself to. He wondered if she was struggling similarly.

"But that is enough for today, I think," Master Fu decided. "You have both learned much this afternoon and it is, perhaps, better to allow that knowledge to sink in before we pursue more."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Marinette asked abruptly.

"Marinette!" Tikki sounded outraged, but Master Fu only smiled.

"You do not," he said simply. "But, alas, I ask that you do. And that you be wary of all who you meet and that surround you. It is safe, to share your secrets between each other, but do not stretch your words much further. Trust in one another, as miraculous users, but know that weakness can befall anyone."

"Thank you, Master Fu," Adrien added, understanding Marinette's question, but not wanting to breed any bad feelings between them either. The older man bowed, Adrien returning the gesture as he'd been taught and watching, with some amusement, as Marinette fumbled to do the same.

"Until next time," Master Fu replied, before they all began to stand. They were escorted to the front, waving goodbye as Master Fu and Wayzz closed up the shop after them. Out in the later afternoon air—the sun beginning to set—they stood alone in the street, Adrien tapping the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk as Plagg settled inside the collar of his shirt.

Marinette was staring at the ground, her fingers fiddling together in front of her.

Awkwardness dropped down atop them like a bag of bricks.

Adrien cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck in the same moment. "So…"

"I should… probably go…" Marinette pointed somewhat weakly down the street, perpendicular to the way he had to go. But, really, it didn't much matter. They only lived a few blocks away from one another.

"I'll walk you," he volunteered.

"Uh, you don't- um, o-okay…" It was like she was refusing to look at him, Adrien frowning as they started to walk. Tikki gave him a sympathetic look, before she flitted down into the purse Marinette had on her person at all times (made sense now).

They were quiet for some moments, Adrien trying to think of something—anything—to say. Because he didn't like this. Chat Noir and Ladybug never had any issues with conversation, but Adrien and Marinette always had. It made him paranoid. What if this was what it'd be like from now on? What if them knowing one another's identities erased the easy rapport Ladybug and Chat Noir had? He didn't want that—in fact, the idea was terrifying to him.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself into action. Into anything, if only to pop the silence.

"So…" he said again, darting out in front of her before beginning to walk backward. She'd glanced up quickly, blinking those big blue eyes as he forced himself to smile.

"So…?" She was staring at him in almost offended curiosity.

"So… I think…" He peered up at the sky only quickly. "That… we should take what Master Fu said seriously."

"He said a lot of things…" she replied, almost pouting. It was practically cute.

No, it was _definitely_ cute.

"I mean, about us," he went on, still walking back on his heels. "We, uh, don't really… talk much, as Adrien and Marinette." She looked quickly back down at the sidewalk, cheeks flaring. He didn't know what to make of it, and so pushed on. "And I think we should." Pause. "We get along as Ladybug and Chat Noir, so…"

"So…"

He frowned, coming to a stop in the street. Though she wasn't watching him, she did as well. "You don't… You don't like me very much, do you?" he eventually deduced, despite the way his heart dropped at the idea.

"What?!" Her expression was clearly alarmed as she glanced back up at him. "Yes I- That's not- Of course I like you!"

He resituated his bag on his shoulder, not totally convinced. "I feel like, ever since I first started going to school, you avoid me," he said honestly, Marinette's mouth falling into a gape. "You're not still mad about the gum thing, are you?"

"No! Adrien, I don't- I don't mean to give that impression." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's not like that at all." Sure, they'd had some time together—like during the game competition and with her uncle—but sometimes he felt she didn't talk to him unless she had to.

"Then how come you're still doing it?"

"Doing what?" She was peering off at the road.

"Avoiding me."

Her attention flicked back to him. It looked like she was going to say something, but the words died on her lips. Instead, shoulders dropping, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Adrien waited.

"I'm not meaning to," she said quietly, appearing as though she was making a conscious effort to look at him. "I- I just- You've always-" Her shoulders dropped, as if in defeat. "I really do like you, Adrien. I never meant to make you feel that way. And I'm not disappointed you're Chat Noir. It's just… taking me a minute to wrap my head around the whole situation." She offered him a soft smile.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then we have to do like Master Fu said," he repeated, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. "We have to… strengthen our bond."

"Our bond?" Her eyebrow cocked skeptically.

"Yes!" He gripped both of her shoulders then. "We need to be better friends."

"Better friends."

" _Super_ friends."

"Super?" She was smiling just a bit, but Adrien was being completely serious, despite the pun. After all, didn't she know how important this actually was? They were superheroes—they couldn't take their jobs lightly.

"Like, _best friends_ ," he said firmly.

"I thought we _were_ best friends, Kitty," she replied, crossing her arms despite how he held her shoulders.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are best friends," he corrected. "Adrien and Marinette are not."

"Oh, my mistake."

He liked this. She was loosening up.

"We have to hang out more," he decided. "You know, to talk about Hawkmoth and… stuff like that."

"Hawkmoth."

"Yeah." He nodded. "To investigate or whatever."

"We already do that on patrols," she reminded him. Three times a week. He'd wanted to up it to four, but she kept saying no. Well, ha, too bad. Now he knew where to find her.

Sweet, sweet victory.

"But," he squeezed her shoulders a bit, "Master Fu said we needed to be more dedicated. So we should hang out more."

"How much more?"

"Like, all the time."

"All the time?" She didn't have to be so amused about it. He was trying to be serious.

"Every. Day," he decided and she gaped.

"Every day?!"

"Yup."

"I don't have time for alley cats every day," she decided, slipping out from under his hold before beginning to walk again. He spun to walk beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders much like he did as Chat.

"But what about awesome, fabulous models?" he asked.

She scoffed, face-palming herself on the forehead. "Oh my god, I can't believe this is my life…"

"Why not?"

"Never mind."

"So yeah, anyway," he pressed on, internally giddy that she wasn't pushing him off of her. "Every day. It's our responsibility, My Lady. We have a duty to the city."

"But I _will_ see you every day. We're in the same class."

"That doesn't count." He waved her off, before holding up his fist and looking down at her earnestly. "We need _bonding time_. For _friendship_." He didn't bother mentioning anything beyond that. Sure, Marinette had said she hadn't been avoiding him, but it was clear she'd never been that interested in being good friends with him either. So he'd keep his crush to himself, just as he (sort of) did with Ladybug. Flirting didn't count—not since she didn't take it to actually mean anything.

"Friendship…" she said quietly, glancing back down at the sidewalk again.

"Unless…" His tone retreated some. "Unless you really don't want to." Maybe she did find him as annoying as she was always acting. He'd just assumed she was pretending and considered it endearing. Perhaps he'd been reading her wrong?

"No, it's fine," she said, finally smiling up at him. "I'm just… adjusting, that's all. "You really don't need to worry, Cha- Adrien. And you're right. Master Fu said we'd be stronger if we were closer outside of Ladybug and Chat Noir, so- so we should hang out… more." A light flush ran across her cheeks, or maybe it was just the dimming sunlight coming over the buildings. Adrien wasn't sure.

"Awesome." He grinned, unable to hold himself back from doing so. After all, he had plenty of reasons to be happy. He knew who Ladybug was, she was in the same class as him, even lived in the same neighborhood. Outside her superhero persona, she was awesome—which meant she was awesome _all the time_ (he was not surprised by this). And she didn't hate him, even if she also didn't love him.

All good things, all good things.

"Um, so…" She'd slowed in their walk, Adrien looking over to see that they were at the corner where the bakery was located. She took a step away, his arm slipping from around her shoulders, before turning to face him. She smiled shyly, raising her hand as though to wave as she leaned toward the bakery. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Uh, yea- Wait!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Can I have your number?"

"Oh, uh, s-sure." He held his phone out, Marinette hesitating for only a moment before taking it. Biting her lip, and with the sun's red glare splashing over her cheeks, she typed her number into his phone before handing it back.

"Great!" He couldn't help grinning. "I'll text you mine, okay?"

"O-of course." She nodded.

"Um, so, yeah." He rubbed his neck again. "Tomorrow?"

She smiled. "Tomorrow." She held up her hand once more, completing her wave as she backed toward he bakery. Adrien returned the gesture, watching as she bumped right into the door, stumbled, and flushed red with embarrassment. Pulling her eyes from him, she retreated inside.

Raising a finger, Adrien tapped his chin thoughtfully.

He could get used to this. He could _definitely_ get used to this.


	2. Part One - New Beginnings and Old Habits

Whenever Adrien watched any horror movies, he knew that squeaky doors were usually a dead giveaway. Thankfully, rich, modern houses didn't have squeaky doors, so he didn't have to worry about it. The wood slid silently open on greased hinges, Adrien more conscious of keeping his steps silent as opposed to anything else.

Plagg floated beside his head, the heavy superhero book gripped tightly in Adrien's hands as he peered through the doorway. It was early evening, the sun having just set, and so everything was cloudy with shadows. Still, he could make out the general shapes of his father's study, his mother's golden portrait seeming to glow on the other side of the room, even in the darkness.

Creeping in, Adrien silently closed the door behind him, his nerves twisting in his gut despite how he lectured himself on staying calm. He had nothing to worry about. Nathalie was still cornered away in her office—he doubted she'd even realized he'd left and come back—and his father wouldn't be home for a few hours yet, or so experience dictated.

All he had to do was get to the safe, have Plagg open it, and slip the book back in where it belonged. With any luck, his father wouldn't even know it'd been missing.

Conscious of time and of doing things he shouldn't be, Adrien crept across the room, Plagg already waiting for him at the base of the portrait. Once there, he glanced around only quickly—despite the illogic of doing so—before he focused in on the frame. With nimble fingers, he gripped the edge and swung it open, each step taken in replacing the book calming his heartbeat just a little.

Faced with the safe, he swallowed and watched as Plagg zipped in past the metal door, the clicking of the latch giving Adrien the signal he needed. Pulling it open, he surveyed the shelves before sliding the book in where it'd been previously. Thankfully, nothing looked disturbed, so it was probably reasonable to assume his father hadn't opened the safe since that morning.

With any luck, he'd never know the book had been missing in the first place.

Unfortunately, Adrien wasn't known for having good luck.

"Did you find the contents of the book of any interest?"

Adrien could have sworn his heart nearly leapt right out of his mouth. He actually jumped, taking in air so quickly he hissed as he whipped around. Plagg had scurried into his jacket, Adrien stiff and wide-eyed with startled terror as he faced the silhouette standing some ten feet behind him.

It was still dark, but the door to the room had been opened. Which meant his father hadn't been hiding in the dark—he'd come in after Adrien. Hopefully, that meant he hadn't seen Plagg.

No lights had been flicked on, Gabriel's figure shadowed, but not unable to be made out. Even if it'd been broad daylight, though, Adrien doubted he'd be able to read whatever expression was surrounding those cold, blue eyes.

"F-father," he sputtered out, aware that both the safe and portrait were hanging open behind him. He'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which, really, hadn't happened before. He'd always been well-behaved, exempting certain situations like school. Which meant he had no idea what to expect from the tall man standing in front of him.

"Did you?" Gabriel asked. Adrien had to reel back his thoughts, if only to remember what his father had initially asked him.

"I, uh, I- I didn't look- I couldn't understand it. The-the pictures were interesting." Oh god, what should he do? He knew his father wasn't asking him these questions because he was really curious. He was doing it as a way of luring Adrien into whatever punishment he had planned. Probably, anyway.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Gabriel replied coldly, hands folded behind his back. "What inspired you to look at it in the first place? And take it, no less?"

"Uh…" Adrien was sweating. He was in such big trouble. This was _worse_ than when he'd run away to go to school. He'd broken into his father's personal belongings and _stolen_ something. And his father knew it!

"An articulate tongue says a lot about what we're thinking," Gabriel added.

Adrien tried to think of something, anything, to say. "I j-just- I saw you looking at it and…" But how could he explain this? That he'd seen the book and the little fairy in his pocket had insisted they have a look? So he'd opened the safe without the code and without setting off the alarm? Like magic?

Because that was the reality of the situation, wasn't it? Magic. And his father couldn't know that. Even if he had the book, that didn't mean he believed in what was inside.

"And?"

"And I…" There was nothing he could say. Not without risking _everything_.

Gabriel took a deep breath, sounding only moderately exasperated. With easy, steady steps, he approached his son, Adrien growing more tightly-lipped terrified as he waited.

But his father didn't come to him directly. Rather, he hovered beside Adrien, reaching up and closing the safe. Once that was done, they stood in silence for a few moments, Adrien unsure what he should do—move, speak. He could barely think.

And when his father finally did turn to look down at him, he had to ball his hands into fists to stop their trembling.

He couldn't give up anything—couldn't tell the truth. His ring felt heavy on his finger, the thought of being without it sending his heart into his throat all over again.

"You know…" Gabriel said after a moment. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Adrien thought he might have a heart attack right then and there. His father wasn't stupid, and he certainly never said anything without purpose or meaning. His words were too deliberate, too severe, for a phrase that was usually meant in jest.

He knew. His father _knew_.

Adrien could practically feel everything, the only freedom he'd ever had, slipping away.

Gulping, he had to push back on the emotion wanting to well up through him. He couldn't live like that again—kept in a cage and locked away. He wouldn't.

"Don't jump to any conclusions," Gabriel started, almost as though he could read his son's thoughts. Maybe he could. Or perhaps it was true and all of Adrien's emotions splashed over his face the same way his father was always saying his mother's had. Because no matter how experienced Adrien became at hiding everything from everyone else, his father could see right through him. "You'll get yourself all worked up."

Too late for that.

"Please move." His father's hand landed on his shoulder, the weight like a scalding burn through Adrien's clothing. As if he'd been struck by lightning, he jumped away, only daring to glance up at his father again once there was a safe distance between them.

Gabriel's hand was still outstretched, as if resting on the invisible figure of where Adrien had only just been standing. And though Adrien couldn't be sure—because he very rarely saw his father express anything other than distaste—he could have sworn those blue eyes had widened just slightly. As if to imply that Gabriel Agreste was actually surprised by his son's actions.

Adrien wasn't sure he could bring himself to believe that, especially when the look vanished as quickly as it'd come. His father's outstretched hand remained so for only a moment longer, before he reached up and pulled the portrait closed.

Adrien stared down at his shoes.

"I would appreciate, in the future," Gabriel started again, "that if you have any interest in my personal belongings, you would ask me before you indulge. I have many important, very valuable documents in this safe."

Adrien grit his teeth and said nothing.

"But… I'm sure you've come to that conclusion already."

He couldn't say where it'd come from, but Adrien wouldn't argue it was courage. Rebelliousness, perhaps, and fear. That was what spurred him to speak. "Why do you have that book?"

He could feel his father's gaze on him, even though he dared not look up.

"My reasons are my own," Gabriel replied after a slight pause. "Why?"

"N-nothing. It doesn't matter." Adrien found himself stuttering, but at least he was no longer shocked into silence. "I'm sorry I took it. It'll never happen again."

"Adrien…"

"I'm sorry." His eyes blinked rapidly, still trained on the floor. "I'm really sorry."

He didn't see the way his father's lips pursed, but he was aware when he stepped closer. Shying away unintentionally, Adrien took a single step back. Which seemed to halt his father's advances.

He cradled his ring, hands clasped together up by his chest.

The silence between them was heavy, Gabriel's words cutting through like a dull blade. "I'm not angry, Adrien," he said, tone ever firm. "I'm disappointed. But I'm not angry."

A claim his son found very hard to believe. "I'm sorry."

"I know…" Silence. "Do you want to go?"

 _Do you want to run?_ That was what he truly asked.

And so Adrien nodded. He was somewhat ashamed of his cowardice, but only vaguely. He knew this man had the power to take his freedom. That wasn't something he had any intention of risking on reckless bravery.

"…Then go."

Like he'd been snapped free from a taut rope, Adrien turned and headed across the room. He was almost to the door, nearly there, when the sound of his father's slight intake of breath stopped him dead. It was the sound of soon-to-be words.

"If I asked you…" he started, Adrien slowly turning his head over his shoulder to look back. His father had his back to him, facing the portrait. "If I asked you to simply give up that ring, would you do it?"

Adrien was pretty sure his heart, blood, and breath all came to a cold, dead stop—like he'd become a statue, his father's words the concrete that froze him in place.

And then Gabriel was turning, hands once again folded behind his back as their eyes caught. "If I asked you to give it to me, to give it up, would you do that?"

Adrien knew he had to say something. Because this was it. This was the moment. He wanted to run, but he knew he couldn't. For all his lost battles against his father, this was the first one that really seemed to mean something.

"Would you do it for _me_ ," Gabriel went on, "if I asked you?"

Maybe it was fear laced with desperation, and a newfound habit of being able to think on his feet, but, suddenly, Adrien had words.

Suddenly, he knew what to say.

He turned away, breaking their eye contact, and let his arms fall to his sides. "Don't ask me to do that," he said, surprising even himself at the steadiness of his speech. "Please. I won't give you the answer you're looking for."

He'd disappear, become Chat Noir forever, before he'd retreat back into the safe prison his father had jailed him in. He could never go back to that, not now that he'd tasted the sunlight.

Not giving his father the chance to reply, Adrien headed forward again. He rounded through the doorway and headed for the stairs, feeling no urge whatsoever to look back.

**oOo**

Marinette hadn't slept well. Which, she supposed, should have been expected. After all, she couldn't get news about Adrien being Chat Noir and reasonably be expected to rest in any sort of fashion. Simply put, her mind was racing. Because, really, how could this have happened?

Not to say she was upset that Adrien was Chat—because she _wasn't_ —but that didn't mean the shock was simply going to fade away. What was she supposed to think? Granted, she supposed she really didn't know Adrien all that well, but if someone had come up to her and said with certainty that Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste were the same person, she wouldn't have believed them.

Alya had done just that once before and she'd rejected the notion without a single thought.

Chat was a roughhousing, rash, flamboyant flirt with too many devious smirks and far too broad a vocabulary when it came to puns. Granted, Marinette could admit well enough that he was charming in his own right, but she wouldn't have put him and Adrien in the same category. Adrien was sweet, reserved, nice to everyone, and generally without the over-the-top theatrics that Chat possessed.

In fact, they seemed so different that Marinette was still having trouble wrapping her head around the fact that they were the same person. Generally speaking, she didn't view her own behavior as that starkly different from Ladybug's. She was more confident as Ladybug, but that was simply because, when she was a superhero, she was allowed that. When she told someone what to do, they did it, whereas "Marinette" had to result to ulterior methods to reach the same ends.

But Adrien… It just didn't seem to make sense.

Yet, he'd been the one to tell her that they were no different with their masks than without. It was a comment that had left her perplexed for hours, until she'd finally climbed down out of bed at near three in the morning, sat down in her rolling chair, and simply stared at the magazine clippings of Adrien posted all over her walls.

She couldn't say when or how, exactly, but a sort of realization did eventually occur to her.

The fact that she didn't actually know Adrien at all.

She knew Chat on a somewhat basic, surface level, but she didn't even have that with Adrien. Though she'd told herself that he was this and that, none of it really stood up with any evidence. Sure, Adrien was nice, and kind, and compassionate, but Chat was those things too, just peppered with attitude.

So perhaps the question she should have been asking herself wasn't how could they possibly be the same, but, rather, why did Adrien hold back when Chat let go?

Image, perhaps. But it seemed like there was more to it. She hoped there was. She'd always told herself that she'd known there was more to Adrien than met the eye. Granted, Chat Noir hadn't been what she'd expected, but the point stood nonetheless.

Despite coming to such conclusions, however, she was still downed. Disappointed even. Not in Adrien, but in herself. She'd built up this image of Adrien in her head without even realizing it. A fake image based on what little she knew of him and the magazine interviews that came out every once in a while.

With the exception of having Chat, she was no more than a glorified fan of model Adrien Agreste that recognized he was a real person, but still didn't _know_ that person. Somehow, she'd convinced herself she was above that—above the idol worship. Yet, there she was with pictures of Adrien posted all over her room like an infatuated fangirl.

Pictures of Chat Noir.

No, she hadn't singled him out because he was a model. She'd told herself she liked him because of everything that _wasn't_ his image. But still, the result was the same.

Perhaps that was where the shame came in. Because she'd always valued Chat as a friend and yet she had pictures of him all over like he was some kind of trophy image in her head. Yet, he was so much more than that—her partner, her trusted companion. It seemed disrespectful to have treated him in such a way. And, through that, as though she'd disrespected Adrien.

Somewhat nauseated, she'd gotten to her feet and begun taking down all the pictures of Adrien. And every time she'd looked at one, she'd only grown more frustrated. Until they were all in the trash.

None of them had seemed real. That was what made her angry. Not at Adrien—never at Adrien. It wasn't his fault. But none of those professional photos had Chat's teethe, exaggerated smile, or his snappish, sharp postures. None of them suggested anything about his goofy personality or how brave and selfless he could be. It was like they were mere gloss, which she should have known.

She didn't have any _real_ photos of Adrien. None that meant anything.

She didn't want someone else's impression of what Adrien Agreste should be. She wanted what he was, the real thing. Whoever that was—caught somewhere between Chat Noir and the boy that sat in front of her in class.

Because Adrien being Chat hadn't changed her feelings about him. She was, perhaps, somewhat conflicted in understanding, but, if anything, her crush on Adrien had only grown deeper. Sure, she could admit that she didn't know him as well as she ought, but to then throw Chat Noir in as a layer and, suddenly, it didn't matter. She'd wondered sometimes—if Adrien hadn't been around—whether her feelings toward Chat would have been different. She had her answer now.

Yes, they would have been. She would have been just as head over heels for him as she was Adrien.

Now it was _worse_.

But, no, she could deal with that. She'd pull herself together. After all, she couldn't become a stuttering mess around Chat the way she was around Adrien. In fact, such behavior had to stop altogether. It was her behavior, spurred by her crush, that had led Adrien to think she didn't like him in the first place.

There was no way she could let such a notion be perpetuated. Not only because she didn't want Chat to think she didn't like him, but because it'd interfere with their jobs. And that, above all else, couldn't happen.

Which meant she had a directive. Which was good, because when she had a goal, she knew what to shoot for.

Number one on her list? Be _actual friends_ with Adrien.

It was with that thought that she finally returned to bed, able to get just a few hours of sleep.

And, naturally, she slept in as a result.

It wasn't until she was stumbling into class, shirt collar uneven and pigtails crooked, that she had the time to catch a morning breath of air.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" Miss Bustier said as she staggered through the door, breathing heavily and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Naturally, every eye in the room was on her as soon as she'd disrupted class. "You're ten minutes late." The fact of which was said with a general sense of regularity. Marinette was tardy a lot. And after she'd become Ladybug, it'd gotten even worse. Needless to say, Miss Bustier—as well as everyone else—was pretty used to it, and so long as she wasn't late three or four days in a row for the same class, it was usually allowed to slide.

"What was it this time?" Miss Bustier asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Too much air pollution? A stray cat in your window?" All excuses Marinette had used before. Head hanging, she didn't even try to offer up a response. "Please go take a seat."

Making sure to look properly ashamed, Marinette dragged herself across the room, only becoming aware of Adrien watching her as she passed his desk. She didn't look up, however, supposing she was dealing with more than enough attention for one morning. There were at least three students giggling at her (and, of course, Chloe was one of them).

Flopping down on her part of the bench, she ignored the sympathetic look Alya was giving her in order to stare at the back of Adrien's head.

Chat's head.

Chat Noir was sitting right in front of her.

This really was going to take some getting used to. She wasn't quite sure she even believed it was true in those moments of normalcy.

But, unless everything the day before had been a dream…

Shaking her head, she pulled out her tablet and tried to focus on class. Until, of course, she was provided with a distraction.

A sheet of paper slid across the table between she and Alya, Marinette glancing down to see that it was the beginnings of a note exchange. They'd once used their phones, until Alix had gotten caught so many times that such technology had been banned during class. And so she and Alya had to resort to caveman ways of communication—that of paper and pen.

 _Everything all right?_ was all Alya's note said. They sat close enough that they didn't have to actually pass the note, which made it easier to keep secret. Getting out a pen that looked convincingly similar to the stylus for her tablet, Marinette scooted a little closer to the center of the desk before beginning to write.

**Fine. Just slept in is all. Like usual.**

_You need a new alarm clock._

**I need to stop shutting off every phone or alarm clock I have in my sleep.**

_Maybe you should put it under your bed, so you have to get up to shut it off ;b_

**I tried that once. Turns out I just sleep through it anyway, refusing to get up. I guess it got too obnoxious for my parents to deal with XD**

Alya laughed beside her.

 _Oh, did you here?_ Marinette watched the message unfold. _About Lila?_

She shook her head, furrowing her brows. Of course, she knew much more of Lila than she would have preferred, what with the whole Volpina episode and all (and her ridiculous jealousy over Adrien. How embarrassing). That didn't mean she was up to date on the latest gossip, however.

_She transferred to a different school._

**But she just got here yesterday!**

_I know! I really wanted to talk to her…_

**Why did she transfer?**

_Dunno. Guess she decided to go to some fancy private school._

Marinette did suppose it was strange. After Lila had gone to all the trouble of fawning over Adrien and telling all sorts of lies to everyone. But maybe everything with Volpina had put a sense of shame in her. Though Marinette felt bad about how she'd treated her, she wouldn't say some humility would be lost on the girl.

_Chloe's happy about it._

**I bet.**

"I know what you two are doing up there," Miss Bustier said, not even bothering to look at them. Peering warily at one another, Alya discreetly slid their notes under her tablet, Marinette pretending to focus on her own work.

Both Adrien and Nino had turned to look at them, resulting in Marinette's cheeks flaring up even worse than they already were.

That was when she saw it.

On Adrien's wrist as he'd leaned his arm on the back of his bench to look at them. The bracelet. _Her_ bracelet. The one she'd had since camp in the second grade, when her mother had chaperoned and supervised the activity. They'd done some kind of silly ritual to ensure that it brought good luck and she'd had an infantile attachment to it ever since. She wasn't sure if her mother's promise that it was good luck was actually true, but she'd put faith in the notion nonetheless.

And now Adrien was wearing it. _Chat Noir_ was wearing _her_ bracelet.

She was going to self-implode, she was certain.

He'd long since turned his attention to the front of the room, but Marinette was in no better condition for it. Rather, her cheeks felt like they were on fire as she folded her arms over the desk and hid her face in them.

She needed to pull it together. She'd promised herself she wouldn't spazz in front of Adrien anymore, but he was _wearing her bracelet_!

This was going to be a lot harder than she'd anticipated.

She spent the remainder of class forcing herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. By the time lunch rolled around, she'd learned absolutely nothing and become an expert on counting forward to and back from ten.

Yet, still, she was doused in red as soon as Adrien turned back to her.

"Ma-"

"We're still going to the library for lunch, right?" Alya asked, completely running over any of Adrien's efforts to say anything. Not that Marinette blamed her friend, her attention snapping from Adrien to Alya. It wasn't like Adrien usually went out of his way to speak with her. Which now made sense, as he'd been under the impression that she _didn't_ like him.

"Uh, y-yeah, I guess," Marinette replied, her gaze flicking only quickly to Adrien again, before going back to Alya. Her girl friend seemed to notice the twitch and cast her a curious look, also looking at Adrien. But he'd been pulled away by Nino, the two discussing their own plans.

The window of opportunity had been lost.

Trying not to feel too downhearted about it, Marinette eventually ended up following Alya to the library, where they'd agreed to study together before a test they had the following period. Nino and Adrien had gone off to do whatever it was they usually did, Marinette unable to catch Adrien's eye despite efforts to do so. But Alya had continued to yank her attention otherwise.

She wondered if Adrien had been looking back and forth at her as anxiously as she had been, or if her nerves were simply one-sided. She was betting on the latter.

It wasn't until she and Alya were settled at a table in the corner of the library, books open, that Marinette's phone buzzed.

Pulling it from her pocket, she glanced down, heart picking up a bit when she saw that it was a message from Adrien. Thanks to Alya, she'd long had his number programmed into her phone, which meant his digits were recognized despite it being the first text they'd ever sent between one another.

Not that it mattered, really. His message was just a single, sad looking black cat emoji. Like it could be anyone else.

She paused for a moment before replying, wondering if she'd seem too anxious if she said something right away. But, then again, this wasn't just Adrien. It was Chat too. And she'd never shied away from sending Chat messages. This shouldn't be any different.

She wouldn't _let it_ be any different.

**Marinette – Sorry. Was there something you needed to talk about?**

She was startled, and pleased, when he replied only seconds later.

_Adrien – Of course! There's tons we have to talk about! Don't act like there isn't!_

Marinette rolled her eyes.

**Marinette – Well, yeah, but we can't talk about anything important at lunch. Not with Alya and/or Nino there.**

_Adrien – Who said we had to talk about anything important :(_

For a moment, Marinette paused, unsure what to say. There was a satisfied sort of thrumming in her chest, her stomach doing little flips of glee. She really wasn't sure how to deal with all this attention from him now. It was Chat, true, but it was Adrien as well and that was a little overwhelming. In a good way, of course, but overwhelming nonetheless.

She decided to change the subject.

**Marinette – I like the bracelet you're wearing ;)**

She tried to study between his texts, but he was clearly quite focused on their conversation, because there was hardly any time between messages.

_Adrien – Yeah? Ladybug gave it to me. I hear it's pretty lucky ;D_

**Marinette – Well, if it was a gift from Ladybug, then that must be true.**

She was grinning, and trying hard to fight it. To the point where her cheeks were stinging.

_Adrien – I hope so. I can use all the good luck I can get._

**Marinette – Mr. Unlucky, are you?**

_Adrien – I come across my fair share of black cats, you could say ;b_

**Marinette – That makes two of us…**

_Adrien – You wound me, My Lady._

**Marinette – Why? It's the truth.**

_Adrien – You say as much like it's a bad thing._

**Marinette – That's how the superstition goes.**

_Adrien – And do you believe in superstitions?_

**Marinette – Mmm, no not really. But, even if it was true, I think I've got enough good luck to counter any such nonsense.**

_Adrien – Good thing then. Because I don't plan on going anywhere :D_

"Who are you talking to?" Marinette actually startled at the sound of Alya's voice, unaware that she'd completely zoned out of studying in order to text. Beside her, Alya was leaning in close, lips slightly pooched beneath her narrowed, amber tinted gaze.

"Uh- I- er." Naturally, she struggled, as she did with anything relating to Adrien. Which only caused Alya to get more suspicious, as her friend knew she only stuttered when he was involved. Well, there was no point trying to hide the truth after that. "I'm talking to… Adrien…"

"Really?!" Alya's expression lit up immediately. "When did _this_ happen?"

"Eh, yesterday?" She tried to remain vague on the actual time. No need for Alya to know she saw Adrien outside of school. Regularly. What a strange concept. "We finally exchanged numbers, is all."

"Nice job!" Alya punched her lightly on the arm. "What gave you the guts?"

Necessity. "Oh, n-nothing. It was just an… opportune time to ask for it." Or to give him her number, in any case.

"And he's talking to you?"

"Yeah…"

"You gonna make a move?"

"What?!" Marinette squawked. Then remembered she was in a library and made a conscious effort to keep her voice down. "No, I am not. I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Uh huh, sure." Alya clearly wasn't convinced. But maybe it was better to just let her think what she wanted. Not like she was going to go up to Adrien and tell him about anything. "You two will be dating in no time."

"Don't say that…" Marinette replied quietly, looking back at her phone. It would seem Adrien had grown impatient with her lack of response. He was writing again, or so the floating ellipses led her to believe.

Alya was obviously baffled, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Why not?"

_Adrien – Nino was making fun of my bracelet though._

"I just want us to be friends. For now…"

**Marinette – Get Ladybug to beat him up for you.**

"Just friends? Since when?"

_Adrien – What a swell idea ;)_

"Since… since now." It was a bit difficult, trying to juggle two conversations at once.

**Marinette – What can I say? I'm brilliant.**

"Marinette!"

_Adrien – Mind dropping in a good word for me, smarty-pants? I hear you and Ladybug are pretty good friends :3_

"What?!"

**Marinette – Hmmm, I'll see what I can do.**

"Will you stop for a minute?!" Alya's hand came out of nowhere, seemingly, and covered Marinette's phone. The motion snapped all her attention up, blue eyes blinking as Alya cast her a dubious smile. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Marinette replied, forcefully ignoring her phone as it buzzed in her hand. She was going to say something stupid to Alya if she wasn't careful, which meant that ignoring a certain cat was probably in her better interests.

"Well, since when are you not interested in Adrien? You've been swooning after him all semester."

"I do not 'swoon,'" she said, pouting.

Alya crossed her arms, clearly not believing a word of it.

Marinette sighed. "Look, it's not a big deal. Of course I still like him." She tapped her fingers against the table. "But I… I realized that I don't actually know him that well. And I don't want to be one of those girls who just goes after him for his good looks and nice words, you know?"

"Like Lila?"

"Like Lila." She met Alya's gaze again. "I want to get to know him, as a friend. That just seems like the right thing to do." She had other reasons, of course, but Alya couldn't be privy to everything. Even if, sometimes, Marinette wished she could confide in someone as Ladybug too.

For a moment, Alya said nothing, appearing thoughtful as she looked Marinette up and down. Until, finally, she gave in. If only a little. "Alright, I'll believe it," she decided. "Actually, I think this is good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Maybe now you'll actually be able to get in a coherent sentence around him, if you're really more focused on being his friend than thinking about his pretty green peepers."

"Alya!"

"What? Don't act like it's not true."

Of course it was true. Adrien had beautiful eyes. The greenest Marinette had ever seen. With the exception of Chat, of course, but maybe that made sense now.

No, she needed to not be thinking about such things.

"True or not, that's not what I'm focused on anymore."

"Right." And Alya really did sound invested. "I'll help you however I can then, with your friendship endeavors."

"Thank you." Marinette nodded curtly. Her phone continued to buzz atop the table.

"He sure is chatty, though," Alya observed, holding her chin in her hand. "Though I guess I have heard Nino mention once or twice that the boy can talk a million miles a minute."

"So I've gathered." Marinette knew perfectly well how much Chat could talk. Sometimes she thought he'd never be quiet.

She smiled, before finally picking up her phone again.

She and Adrien texted through lunch, but, once they were back in class, all discourse ceased. They were too busy. Even following school, Marinette didn't get a word out of him. Her expert skill level in knowing Adrien's schedule told her that he was in piano lessons, even if she was immediately embarrassed that she knew such things.

What would Chat say? She didn't want to know.

They had a patrol later that evening. It'd be the first since they'd revealed themselves, so Marinette found herself to be a bit nervous. She forcefully swallowed the feeling, however. She would not allow her anxiety to bleed over into her work or her relationship with Chat.

She valued their partnership too much to let something like a crush get in the way.

When seven o'clock began to roll around, she bid her parents farewell with one of her typical excuses—this one being that she was going over to Alya's. Not like she could just disappear out of her bedroom every other day, after all. Her parents would have noticed that a long time ago.

Instead, she skipped over to her familiar alley before releasing Tikki from her purse. She was a bit early, but she feared that, if she wasn't on time, Chat would come prowling around her house. It was still up in the air as to whether she could handle that yet or not.

"Are you ready?" she asked as Tikki zipped up in front of her face.

"Always!" the little red fairy said with a twirl. Grinning, Marinette called on her transformation, breathing in the sensation of her body conforming to the perfect fit of her uniform. There was nothing quite like being suited up. Everything about it was fit to her perfectly. Like being naked without the chaffing or embarrassment, and much stronger, as well as agile.

She reveled in it these days, the pleasure of having every part of her body under her complete control—in being able to throw herself into the air and know with certainty that the follow-through would be flawless. There was something addicting about the experience, really. Like breathing in fresh air after being submerged in water all day.

Liberating.

Reaching down, Ladybug retrieved her yoyo with practiced ease, and was therefore surprised when the weight of her hips felt odd.

Glancing down, she blinked, unsure what to think.

Because she had one yoyo in her hand and there was another sitting on the side where there'd previously been nothing.

Eyebrows furrowing beneath her mask, she grabbed up the other yoyo as well, releasing the two of them toward the ground before examining the string. It appeared to be made of the same invincible material, the two looking like identical copies.

But, upon closer examination, she realized they weren't. Her first yoyo was still layered—able to be her communicator, purify akuma, etc. While the new yoyo didn't appear to have any special functions at all. At least, not that she could tell.

She considered for a moment whether or not she should detransform and speak with Tikki about the additional weapon, but ultimately decided she'd wait till after the patrol. Instead, she replaced the new yoyo on her hip before casting out the one she'd come to depend on.

With skilled ease, she caught a nearby building and took off. With the wind whipping through her hair, she tossed her body up into the air, soaring for some moments before she landed on a nearby chimney.

Legs pumping and yoyo spinning, she flew through the city.

Until she was coming up on her and Chat's typical meeting place, hardly panting as she stepped down atop the familiar roof.

Chat was already there, his silhouette crouched on the edge of the roof. As she landed, his ears flicked her way before he turned, cat eyes blinking as he slunk down and headed over.

He had that familiar, arrogant saunter and his cocky little half-grin. Really, he did look like Adrien, she realized, but was just so different than she'd convinced herself he was that it didn't click until that moment—that this blonde superhero in a skin-tight black suit was Adrien Agreste.

Much like imagining Adrien as Chat had thrown her for a loop, imagining Chat as Adrien did the same thing. But this was easier somehow. Because, Adrien or not, she knew how to deal with Chat. She knew how to react when he gave her that suggestive little twitch of his chin, and what to do when he flirted and got too close.

Sure, his advances and his quips didn't likely mean anything, but it was familiar. It was a rapport she'd gotten used to and enjoyed. Unlike with Adrien, which was like starting from square one.

If she could just transfer a little bit of her comfort from Chat to Adrien, she'd be so much better off.

"Good evening, My Lady," he said, bowing rather extravagantly as Ladybug shifted her weight from one leg to another. "You look ravishing, as always."

"Don't even start." She rolled her eyes. "You'll put all the men in Paris to shame."

"Of course I will." One of his trademark winks (Adrien did that too, she realized). "I'm the _chatch_ of the town, you know."

"Mmm, I dunno." She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "I see an awful lot of posters around with, who was it? Adrien Agreste, on them? I'm thinking he's got you beat, Kitty. Hands down."

"Purr-lease." He waved her comment off with a clawed hand. "He's a creampuff. Nothing compared to me." Raising his arms, he flexed, grinning as he did. It might have been an impressive display, if Ladybug were the type to be impressed by Chat. But she wasn't, and so he only managed to look like a goofball. As usual.

"He might give you a run for your money," she continued. "I see an awful lot of girls obsessing over him."

"Well, what does that matter?" he asked, edging his way closer. Until he was right up beside her and able to slip an arm around her shoulders. "You're the only girl I want obsessing over me. Let Adrien Agreste have all the rest of them." He'd leaned down, so he was looking directly at her, and Marinette cocked an eyebrow beneath her mask.

"Oh, Kitty-Cat," she teased, reaching up and poking him on the nose, before shoving him back. "You flatterer." She slipped out from under his hold, spinning once in order to do so. She then smiled at him, amused at how he rubbed the tip of his nose with his gloved fingers.

"You should know," he said following, "that I only bestow flattery on those to whom it is due."

"Oh yeah?" It was her turn to wink. "In that case, give my regards to Adrien Agreste. Like I said, he's the talk of the town."

"Haha, very funny." He finally gave in, crossing his arms over his chest with a short sigh. "Are you going to make fun of me all night?"

"Make fun of you?" She gasped, placing her hand on her chest dramatically. "I would _never_."

"You know, any other girl would be thrilled I was a model when I wasn't being a superhero. But, naturally, you're not like any other girl."

"Would you really want me to be?"

"No." He laughed. "No, I wouldn't." She laughed too, relieved that it didn't seem to matter who was behind their masks, they were still the same. An obvious variable, perhaps, but one she'd worried about nonetheless. "Hey." He sounded curious, gesturing to her person. "What's up with the second yoyo?"

"Oh." Reaching down, she fingered them both. "I'm not exactly sure. It was there when I transformed. It doesn't seem to do anything special, not that I can tell, and, honestly, I'm a little afraid to use it." Chat had come closer during her explanation, bending down to get a better look. But, as expected, he came to no better an understanding once he'd straightened back up.

"Huh. Weird."

It really was. All the time they'd been fighting together, their suits had never changed. Yet there she was, out of the blue with another whole weapon.

"I'll ask Tikki about it later," she said, shrugging. "She'll probably know something."

"Yeah. Text me when you do. I'm curious." Because there were implications for both of them in such things, really.

"Okay."

And just like that, it was done. Simple. For the first time ever, they could communicate outside their transformations—discuss anything, anytime, anywhere. No hassle, no running around looking for the other. Just a mere message away.

It was convenient, Ladybug supposing Master Fu really had been right. Things would be better this way. Even if there was some adjustment time.

"Well." She took a deep breath. "Shall we?" She gestured out across the city. They had a whole other section to scout for clues. That was their M.O. They'd long since divided up the city, planned a pattern by which they would search. Eventually, they figured, they'd have to find something.

"Oh, no, no, no," Chat objected, waggling a finger at her. "Not tonight." Ladybug frowned. "Tonight, we're making new plans."

"Wha-"

"Sit." He pointed a sassy claw at the rooftop, Ladybug pursing her lips. He didn't push the subject, however, instead taking his own orders to heart and plopping down himself. He'd crossed his legs beneath him and was staring up at her expectantly.

Supposing she had little choice in the matter, Ladybug eventually followed, until they were sitting, facing one another with only about an arm's length between them.

Hands on her knees, Ladybug watched as Chat's tail flicked lazily back and forth, waiting for whatever inevitable trip he was about to take them on. With a grin, he reached around and pulled a folded sheet of paper from the back of his belt. Opening it, he laid it between them, flattening the edges as Ladybug peered curiously down.

She was not amused. "What is that?" She pointed a rather offensive finger down at the document.

"It's a Friendship Schedule," he announced, far too proud of himself.

"A what?"

"Friendship Schedule," he said again, as if that would somehow explain it any better. Arms crossing over her chest, Ladybug stubbornly made it clear she was not about to play whatever game he was trying to start. Which caused him to roll his eyes. "Look, see? It's just a schedule." He drew a claw over the line of days, before detouring to the key. "Yellow is school. Blue is sleep. Green is… optional things. And red is the time we're going to hang out."

Ladybug took a closer look at the schedule, eyes narrowed critically. "Chat, you've blocked everything that isn't school or sleep in red."

"Yup."

"Chat…"

"What?"

"You can't do that! That's every hour we're not in school or asleep spent together! That doesn't even make sense! And I don't even see any green on here. What about all your after school stuff?"

"I decided that, since green is optional, it might as well be red. All after school stuff is optional."

"Chat!"

"It makes sense to me. Optional is optional. I mean-"

"That's not it!" Laughing, she reached out and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. "You can't monopolize all my time, Kitty."

He sighed far too dramatically. "I knew you'd disapprove," he admitted. "Which is why I aimed high. You know, more room to negotiate."

"Negotiate?" She shook her head. "There's no negotiating. All this red has to go." She gestured to the whole "schedule."

"What?! No! Some of the red has to stay. And I don't just mean on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays when we have our patrols. Red is important. Red is our duty. Red is what Master Fu wants."

"Red with the blood of our enemies," she said, voice deepening theatrically.

"No. Red with friendship." He just trucked right on along, reaching up to lay a finger across her lips. As if to shush her. "This is important."

She shoved his hand away. "We'll just hang out on the weekends or something, Chat. Like normal people."

He frowned. "Why are you so difficult?"

"Why are you so ridiculous?"

"Augh! Why do I even bother?" Grabbing his schedule, he flopped backward, legs shooting out on either side of her as he tumbled back atop the roof. With a groan, he let the paper fall over his face while his arms flailed and fell out on either side.

He simply lay there.

"So melodramatic," Ladybug muttered, reaching out and poking him in the shin. His leg lolled, but, other than that, did nothing. "It's not like we won't see each other every day."

"It's not the same…" he moaned, face still covered.

"We'll hang out on the weekends, I promise," she assured. "But every day, all the time, is impossible. You know that. You're just being silly." Really, she wouldn't mind seeing him every day outside of school, puns and all. But it was hardly realistic. They'd never be productive, not as Marinette and Adrien. She could see that fact coming a mile away.

He sighed.

She waited.

"Okay, how about this?!" Abruptly sitting up again, he kept his legs stretched out around her as his schedule fluttered from his face to the rooftop. "Mornings."

"Mornings?"

"That's my compromise."

"What would we do in the mornings?" She was suspicious. She couldn't help it. As far as she was concerned, mornings were inherently suspicious.

"I've been thinking, we should improve all parts of ourselves, not just our relationship." Ladybug pinked a bit at his word choice, but didn't comment. That wasn't what he meant. "If things like how well we communicate can make us better superheroes, then other things can too. We should workout in the mornings together. Before school."

"Workout?" she questioned.

"Sure! Running, stretching, things like that. I'm already on a workout regime, but I could just go outside instead of staying on the treadmill. Probably more interesting anyway."

"Uh…" Ladybug was trying to compute everything he was saying. Workout. In the mornings. With _Adrien_. With Adrien running. And Adrien sweating. And Adrien probably drinking water like he had in that one commercial with the perfect little beads of sweat rolling down his throat.

"My Lady?"

"S-sure," she stammered, shaking her head of her previous thoughts. She couldn't afford to think such things. She was determined _not_ to. "That sounds good. What time?"

"Well, school starts at eight-thirty, so, like, six maybe? That gives us two hours to do whatever and then half an hour to get ready and go to school. Unless you need more time than that."

"Chat, I'm late for school every other day. Half an hour is more than enough time."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

She glared. "We can try it," she decided. "I can't guarantee I'll be able to get up at six in the morning every day."

"I know where you live. I'll come get you."

"I can still lock you out."

"We'll see." He grinned, looking far too confident about the whole thing. But he didn't know just how difficult she could be to wake up at times. More than likely, he was in for a surprise the first morning she got stubborn. "I'll put together a workout schedule for us, so that we know what we're doing."

"You and your schedules."

"I was raised on schedules, My Lady," he said, sounding quite serious. "I am an expert level schedule maker."

"What a terrifying skill."

"You have no idea."

No, really she didn't. But she was betting she'd know soon enough.

"Speaking of schedules," she started a moment later, standing as she did. "We have a city to survey." He frowned up at her. "Look, we had our chat, now we have to work. Hawkmoth isn't going to find himself."

"But what if I want to keep chatting?"

"You always want to chat," she said, tapping his leg lightly with her toe. "C'mon. I know you enjoy running around the city as much as I do." She smiled, her stomach twisting a bit when he returned the gesture fully-fledged.

Why didn't Adrien ever smile like that?

"I suppose you're right," he agreed, bending up into standing as well. He folded up his Friendship Schedule and tucked it back into his belt. "Ladies first, then?" He bowed, gesturing to the edge of the roof.

"Why, thank you," she replied, hopping up onto the ledge at the same time. Retrieving her yoyo—the one she knew to trust—she cast it out across the street and was just about to jump when she heard Chat shift and stiffen behind her.

Curious, she turned to look at him. He was standing ramrod straight, tail completely still. Back to her, he was staring out across the rooftop, ears perked attentively.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, knowing better than to doubt Chat's senses.

He didn't reply right away, still seemingly focused elsewhere, and Ladybug felt her guard begin to rise.

"I…" He finally spoke, his shoulders dropping a bit as he turned to her. "It's nothing. I just… thought I saw something. But I guess I was wrong."

"Saw what?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. It was just out of the corner of my eye—blue. Probably nothing though."

Ladybug pursed her lips, peering out across the rooftop much like he had been. Because Chat didn't just notice nothing. His senses were too keen for that. But "blue" was hardly a very good descriptor. There was blue in everything.

And if he hadn't been able to pinpoint anything, then she certainly wouldn't. Not like she had night vision.

Maybe it had been nothing…

"Okay," she agreed after a moment, setting her attention back down on him. "Ready?"

"As always." Smirking, he hopped up on the roof beside her, pulling out his staff as he did.

Casting him one last smile, Ladybug pulled back on her yoyo and flew off.

She could hear the soft tapping of his leaping feet behind her.


	3. Part One - Bumps in the Road

Bidding her parents goodnight, Marinette headed up the stairs to her room. Once there, she closed the door before popping open her purse. Tikki flitted up and out immediately, taking in her limited freedom with little complaint and an anxious sort of buzzing. Marinette watched her for a moment, until the fairy came to float before her, smiling as she did.

"I have to ask you about something," Marinette said after a moment, toeing off her shoes before she took a seat in her rolling chair. Tikki trailed her the whole way, before settling on her desk and looking up expectantly. "It's about tonight, when I transformed. Something weird happened."

This announcement didn't seem to surprise Tikki in the least. She simply blinked up at her ward with unlimited patience—despite the fact that she had to know what Marinette was about to say.

"The thing is," Marinette went on, "I had two yoyos instead of one."

Tikki's little smile lit up her face. "This is good!"

"It-it is?" Marinette fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

"Of course!" Tikki did a flip in the air before settling back down on the desk. "This is progress, don't you see?"

"No…"

"It's like Master Fu said," she went on. "When you and Chat Noir work together, you become stronger than when you're apart." An explanation that only caused Marinette's eyebrows to scrunch closer together. "Chat Noir and Ladybug are a team. You can only grow and become stronger together. It must be that, since you two have revealed yourselves to one another, more of your Ladybug powers have manifested."

"More?!" Marinette squawked. "I have _more_ powers?"

"Certainly!"

"You never said anything about that!" She couldn't help sounding somewhat accusing. After all, there were a lot of things she felt she should have known that Tikki hadn't told her. Like about how closely related she and Chat's powers actually were.

"Well, no, I didn't," Tikki agreed, no shame. "If I told you everything from the start, there'd be nothing for you to learn on your own. The value of knowledge is only as great as the learning that occurred while in pursuit of it."

Marinette groaned. "So this yoyo is the real deal? I can use it and it's safe?"

"Yup!"

"Are there any other abilities I have that you should be telling me about?"

"Mmm, in the future, you may develop them, but it's not my place to say anything more."

"Then whose place is it?" Marinette didn't normally get irritated with Tikki, but she could feel the beginnings of annoyance steaming up through her person. Of course, she'd always known that Tikki had to have a much greater history and knowledge base than she did—the kwami was thousands of years old—but things like other abilities seemed like facts she ought to know.

"Marinette." Tikki used her scolding voice. "Being Ladybug isn't as easy as just knowing and learning about your powers. You have to learn about yourself too. Ladybug's abilities manifest with yours and Chat's personal growth. That's not something I can dictate. And I would never rob you of that experience by giving away too much."

"But what if these other powers could help with the akuma or in finding Hawkmoth?"

"Then better you didn't know about them," Tikki replied simply. "You'd just be focused on getting those powers, instead of the journey that takes you there." She zoomed up and placed a single little mitt against Marinette's cheek. "I know it's hard to understand now, but you'll see in the future. Until then, just focus on the abilities you do have, and on getting to know Adrien. Together, the both of you can take on anything."

It sounded like the old "you'll understand when you're grown up" speech that parents tended to give. Which told Marinette it was all the more futile to worry about it.

"But what about Chat?" she asked. "He didn't have any new abilities."

"Perhaps the reveal wasn't as shocking to him as it was to you," Tikki offered. "You're still struggling with it, aren't you?"

"I- A little…" She glanced down at her keyboard, tapping at one of the letters absentmindedly.

"The most knowledge is gathered from the greatest struggles," Tikki offered. "Do not fret, Marinette. Chat will evolve too. Together, with you."

"I really am stuck with him, huh?" she asked, smiling just a bit.

"You and me both," Tikki replied, sighing.

Marinette laughed. "Do you find Plagg as annoying as I find Chat Noir?" Her tone was joking, certainly, but not exactly spoken falsely either.

"I find Plagg to be… exasperating, but not entirely without his merits."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Marinette agreed. As if in tandem with her words, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She was not surprised to realize that, as she looked at the screen, it was Adrien who had texted her.

_Adrien – So?_

**Marinette – Tikki explained it. The new yoyo is safe.**

_Adrien – Plagg said it was too, when I asked him. But then he refused to talk about it anymore. Because he's annoying. Something about Tikki being a better teacher and how he just wanted to eat cheese for eternity. And "was that really so much to ask?"_

**Marinette – What a struggle ;)**

_Adrien – It is! You're lucky. Tikki seems nice. Plagg is like the kid who only got sent to camp because his parents made him go, which makes him practically useless unless you make him do anything._

**Marinette – Tikki was saying he was relatively "exasperating." Sounds like someone I know…**

_Adrien – Who? You talking about me? I'm pawsome ;)_

Marinette snorted.

_Adrien – But seriously, what did Tikki say?_

**Marinette – She said that the new yoyo "manifested" because we revealed ourselves, I guess. We both have other powers and they show up with, like, personal growth? She was very cryptic about it. See, Tikki can be annoying too.**

_Adrien – But there was nothing different about my transformation :(_

**Marinette – Well, Tikki seemed to think it was because I… struggled more with finding out who you were. I guess…**

_Adrien – Oh…_

**Marinette – Not because I'm upset or anything. Just that I was more shocked or… something. I don't really get it. I'm sorry.**

She didn't quite know what she was apologizing for, but it seemed appropriate.

_Adrien – Was it really that surprising?_

Because he hadn't had any trouble accepting who she was. It'd happened and he'd moved on. Marinette was jealous of him, really, because she was still in awe over the whole thing. She thought, maybe, things were getting better. She was at least able to text him with a sense of calm, so that was something.

**Marinette – You just act so different…**

_Adrien – No I don't :/_

**Marinette – Yes you do. Don't pretend like you don't.**

_Adrien – I don't act different._

**Marinette – Fine.**

_Adrien – How do I act different?_

**Marinette – You're totally different! Chat Noir is silly and you're just… not.**

_Adrien – What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a different person, Mari. Sure, I might act different because I'm in school and not dressed up like a cat, but it's not like my personality changes or something. You know that._

Marinette was frustrated, despite not quite knowing how she'd gotten to that point. Once again, she could see Chat Noir and Adrien trying to merge in her head to little avail. She mentally berated herself—because Adrien and Chat weren't different people, just different parts of a single whole. And she was letting her own personal impressions get in the way of the truth. Impressions that stemmed from nothing real or valid.

**Marinette – You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just… still having trouble with this whole thing.**

_Adrien – :(_

**Marinette – It's not your fault. It's mine. I'm figuring it out, I promise. I got another yoyo, so that has to count for something.**

_Adrien – …_

_Adrien – I can't figure you out._

She didn't know how to respond to that.

_Adrien – What am I doing wrong?_

The question was so honest, and so raw, that Marinette had to blink back against the emotion that threatened to well up inside her. He wasn't doing anything wrong. It wasn't his fault she was being idiotic. But, really, it seemed like something both Chat and Adrien would do—blame himself.

Which, perhaps, made the point she needed to embrace more acutely than anything else had.

**Marinette – You're not doing anything wrong, Kitty. I'm the one that's messed up. I just… had these ideas in my head about who Chat Noir was and who Adrien was, and I'm just working through it. It's not you. You've never done anything wrong.**

_Adrien – You are disappointed, aren't you?_

**Marinette – No! It's not that.**

**Marinette – It's kind of the opposite, actually.**

She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how best to type her explanation without saying more than she wanted to.

**Marinette – Chat Noir is my partner and good friend, and I've always respected him and felt like we were equals. A team, like Master Fu says. And I always thought Adrien was really nice and I respected him too, but he was always so far away. So far above me, I guess. It's just hard, trying to put the two together.**

_Adrien – Mari…_

**Marinette – I know that's not fair, because you don't want to be viewed that way. I knew that before I knew you were Chat Noir. And it's not because you're a model or because of who your dad is or anything, but it also kind of is, and I'm sorry. That doesn't make any sense.**

**Marinette – I always wanted us to be friends because I thought you seemed like a nice person, not because of anything else. But it's hard to get around those other things too.**

**Marinette – I really am sorry. I'm just stupid.**

_Adrien – You're not stupid. I get it._

She'd hoped for something more to be added to the text then, so she'd waited, but nothing was. And that made her even more upset. Reaching up with the heel of her hand, she wiped away the tears before they had the chance to fall.

**Marinette – Please don't be mad.**

_Adrien – I'm not._

She was typing frantically.

**Marinette – I didn't mean it like that. I don't think of you that way. You're not just a model or poster or anything. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant at all.**

_Adrien – Then what did you mean? :(_

She wasn't even sure she knew anymore.

**Marinette – Just that… that it's hard...**

**Marinette – Seeing you as Chat Noir…**

_Adrien – Instead of perfect model Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste's son? Is that who you want me to be?_

**Marinette – No! I mean, that is who you are, but it's not. I know that. I don't want you to be anyone except who you want to be.**

_Adrien – Well, I want to be me. I'm not Chat Noir or Adrien. We're the same. Why is that so hard to understand?_

**Marinette – I don't know. It just is…**

_Adrien – It's fine. I'm going to bed._

**Marinette – Adrien, I'm sorry…**

No response was ever given. She waited, and the minutes ticked by silently, but he never even read her text. Or, at least, she was never alerted to as much. It was only when some ten minutes had passed, when the emotion had been once again welling up, that she finally laid her phone down.

Wrapping her head in her arms, she placed her forehead on her desk and tried her best to blink away the tears.

**oOo**

He wasn't mad. A little disheartened, maybe, but not with Mari directly. He didn't blame her for what she was dealing with. He was a celebrity, his father was famous, and he did have a reputation whether he wanted it or not. It was frustrating, and hurt, that Ladybug had such a hard time seeing him for who he really was, but it wasn't her fault.

As he stared down at his phone, the time reading 5:30 a.m., he regretted having gotten so upset the night before. To the point where he'd tossed his phone aside in frustration and slammed his pillow over his head before drifting off into fitful sleep.

**Marinette – Adrien, I'm sorry…**

**Marinette – Please, please don't be mad. I know I'm an idiot. But I'm trying.**

**Marinette – Please don't hate me…**

He shouldn't have left things in such a bad place the night before. It'd been cruel, really, and guilt fell down around his shoulders like a sack of weights. But he hadn't known what to say. There was nothing he could have done, really. He was who he was, and his life was what it was, and he couldn't change that.

Or so he'd told himself in his bitterness.

But, really, that was the attitude of a loser. Not that of a superhero. Maybe Marinette had a point, saying he acted different as Adrien than Chat Noir. That had never been his intention, but, then again, he'd never really had intention about anything before. He let his father dictate his actions, create his image, and it'd always been his job to fit within those parameters.

When he was Chat Noir, he didn't have to do that. But as Adrien, he was always conscious of such things. And maybe that didn't result in him being someone else, but it also wasn't who he really was.

Of course, he was both Adrien and Chat Noir, but to someone in Mari's shoes—someone at such distance—he could sort of understand where the wrong impression would come in. He didn't have very many close friends. Nino and "Ladybug" were about all who he'd count as such (no matter Chloe's opinion). Nino knew him, he thought. And Ladybug, like, half did. And she was trying to get to know him better, which, really, was what mattered.

She'd admitted to having trouble, which meant the least he could do was make it easier for her.

And that started with his own behavior.

He'd been thinking about it for a few hours, what had transpired between his father and himself two days prior. There was no doubt in his mind that his father knew he was Chat Noir. And he'd been kind of waiting for some sort of repercussion on the subject. But, thus far, his father hadn't done anything. Not a word had been spoken about it and their days had gone on like nothing had changed.

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd been given some time after the traumatizing event to consider, or simply because of Mari, but he was feeling braver.

If there was any way he was going to change what people thought of him, it had to start at the source.

Having already pulled on his gray jogger shorts, matching hoodie vest, and green trainers, he did a few stretches to pump himself up, opened his pocket for Plagg, and headed downstairs.

It was early, so his father would still be home. Probably in his office.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he petted Plagg for comfort and let the pants ride a little lower on his hips—if only because his father despised the look—before creeping across the house to the study.

The doors were closed, but he could see the light through the cracks.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for just a moment before reaching up and knocking lightly.

"Who is it?" his father snapped from the other side. Adrien thought of Mari as a way to gather his courage.

"It's me," he said simply.

"Enter."

With only a bit of hesitation, he pushed his way inside. Of course, the memory from the last time he'd been there—when his father had confronted him—felt heavy in the back of his mind. But he used that as fuel for his current actions, to use as leverage in what he was about to do. If he could.

His father was on the far side of the room, standing before his computer and in front of the now infamous portrait. He didn't look up when Adrien walked in—not that such was all that surprising.

Standing on the other side, Adrien fiddled with his bracelet nervously as he tried to configure what to say. Really, he didn't approach his father directly very often. They mostly saw one another in passing, and their most direct discourse was usually when Adrien was being scolded—like when he'd run off to public school. So, really, this was a bit new to him.

"What do you need, Adrien?" His father asked after the silence had stretched to uncomfortable lengths, causing the young teen to jump as his heart sped up in his chest.

His father still wasn't looking at him.

"I- I wanted to talk to you about something," he managed to get out, before becoming quiet again. Was he just supposed to delve right in or wait for some kind of verification from his father to continue? Or maybe schedule an appointment? That sounded more reasonable.

"So I gathered," was all Gabriel said, leaving Adrien to, ultimately, make a decision on his own.

"I, uh," he shoved is hands back in his pockets and rocked on his feet. Plagg's soft little velvet body calmed him a bit, especially when the kwami head-butted his fingers in his own passive-aggressive fashion of encouragement. "I wanted to talk to you about- about some things."

"Talk or stutter about them?" Gabriel asked.

Adrien pursed his lips, his father's mocking making him braver. Or perhaps more rebellious. "I wanted to talk to you about my- my bodyguard." He liked the giant gorilla man, really, but that was quite beside the point.

"Why?" Gabriel finally did look up then, those blue eyes heavy and unreadable, as always. "Has he done something unsatisfactory?"

"Eh, no." Adrien shrugged, once more rocking back on his heels. "I, well, actually, I don't- I don't want him… anymore."

"Why not?" Gabriel set down his stylus, finally putting all his attention on his son. "You don't exchange bodyguards when you simply tire of their company, Adrien."

"No, that's not it. I don't want to… 'exchange' him." He bit his lip for just a moment. "I just… don't want him anymore."

"I don't understand."

"I don't want a bodyguard anymore. At all." Adrien looked only quickly to the window, before daring to focus fully on his father again. That hard gaze had narrowed, as though the gears were turning behind. And, wanting to stay one step ahead, Adrien spoke again. "And I don't want to be driven to school any- anymore either. I want- I want to walk. Alone."

Gabriel blinked once, taking a deep breath. "No."

Normally, when presenting anything to his father, this would be the time that Adrien would simply say "okay" and the subject would drop. But, for the first time ever, he wasn't welling with disappointment. No, this time, all his father's rejection did was make him more determined.

"Uh, well, I- I say… yes…"

"Excuse me?"

Adrien gulped. "I don't want a bodyguard anymore," he repeated. "And I want to walk to school. It-it's not that far. It's a waste to drive." The school was only just down the street, for crying out loud. He only lived a five-minute walk further than Mari did, maybe less.

"That's not the point," Gabriel said sternly.

"Well… I don't… I don't care."

"What?"

"You- you heard… me…" Wow, this was getting worse by the second. But he couldn't back out. Not anymore. He'd stand his ground from now on.

"Yes, yes I did," Gabriel replied, sounding rather condescending, as parents tended to. "But this isn't a decision you get to make. You're my son, Adrien, and so you will have a bodyguard and you will be driven to school."

Adrien pooched his lips, standing a little straighter. "No."

"…What?"

"I don't _need_ a bodyguard," he replied. "I think we both know that." Gabriel's gaze darkened, but Adrien pushed on. "And it's stupid to be driven to school every day. Nobody else who lives this close drives."

"You're not everybody else," Gabriel replied, tone even more severe—if at all possible. "You are Gabriel Agreste's son. That means extra measures for your safety have to be taken into account."

"Safety? Really?" Adrien couldn't hide his skepticism. "You're joking, right?"

"I don't joke."

Adrien almost rolled his eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it…" His hands had left his pockets and crossed over his chest. "Look, you don't… you don't actually get a say in this, okay?"

This declaration caused that ever-rare kind of subtle surprise to flash over his father's expression again—for the second time in less than a week.

"You can keep the bodyguard and car if you want, but I'm not using them. I escape my bodyguard literally _all_ the time." Chat Noir didn't have a bodyguard, after all. "And the car isn't any different." He could see the way his father's jaw had tightened, his teeth likely grinding together. "I'm fully capable of protecting myself, so it's really just pointless."

"It's not pointless to _me_ ," Gabriel replied, voice much darker than Adrien had ever heard it before. But it was just more fuel added to the ever-burning fire inside him.

"Well, this isn't about you," Adrien replied, surprised at the steeliness in his own tone. "I don't want the bodyguard and I don't want the car. And I don't want Nathalie's schedules anymore, for that matter. I get having to do photoshoots and stuff, but I'm using my free time how I want to from now on. Whether that's piano lessons or Chinese or whatever."

His father's lips had actually parted some, looking convincingly like a gape.

"Also, I'll hang out with whoever I want to," he continued to push. "And in the mornings, from now on, I'm going outside to workout. It's more interesting to jog in town than in here."

"Adrien!"

"It's true!"

"That's not the point!" Gabriel replied, voice booming across the room. He was angry—like he had been the day Adrien had run to school without asking permission. Or maybe worse. Probably worse. But Adrien didn't shy away this time, or bow his head. Rather, he held his chin higher and stood his ground. "These are not decisions _you_ get to make!"

"They are now!" he rebuked harshly. "You can't stop me!"

"I _can_!" It was a threat, which only caused the hair on Adrien's neck to bristle, hackles rising.

"You try and I'll run away!" he said, meeting his father with equal force, eye contact unwavering. "Don't think that I won't. Or that I can't. You know I could and you'd never find me!"

"Adrien Michel Agreste!"

"What?!"

"The subject is closed! Go back to your room! You will not forgo your bodyguard, you will be driven to school, and you will continue with your lessons as they've been planned!"

For once, for the first time ever—as if his father's own words had chased the sensation away—Adrien wasn't afraid. Afraid of consequences, that was, or what his father would think of him. None of that mattered anymore.

He wouldn't be caged any longer.

"No," he said simply.

"Adrien!"

"That's it. The discussion is over." His father really was gaping now. " _You_ don't have any choice in the matter. This is what I want and this is the way it's going to be." He raised his eyebrows, his father's gaping silence more satisfying than he would really admit. "I'm going now. I'll be back after my run to change and then I'm walking to school." His eyes narrowed into a glare. "And don't send anyone to follow me. I'll know." His own threat—warning his father of the consequences of interference.

Finally, Gabriel's mouth snapped shut, lips forming a thin line as he took in his son's gaze. Ultimately, Adrien was the first to look away. But not in defeat. Rather, he did so with a sense of finality. Turning on his heel, he walked confidently to the door and out, no attempts made to stop him.

Aside from physically removing the ring from his finger, there was nothing his father could do. And if he did try such tactics, Adrien would be gone before he could follow through. Not like he was defenseless.

For once feeling that he'd come out on top, Adrien marched himself to the front door before stepping out into the early morning sunlight. It was just beginning to stream over the city skyline and he took a deep breath—relishing in his new, self-proclaimed freedom.

With a slight skip in his step, he strolled out onto the sidewalk, glancing once around the mostly empty streets before kicking himself up into a jog.

No one followed him—no one bothered him.

By the time he arrived at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, he was hardly winded. The shop wasn't open, but he could see the lights were on and that there was activity inside. Of course, Mari's parents were bakers, so they'd be up bright and early.

Going to the main door, he pulled it experimentally and was glad that, despite the closed sign, it was open. A bell jingled as he slipped inside, Adrien conscious of being hesitant if only to seem as though he weren't intruding.

"We're not open yet!" a voice called from the back, Adrien recognizing it as Tom Dupain. A moment later, the large man showed up behind the counter, wiping his hands as his attention fell to Adrien. "Oh, hello."

"Uh, hi." Adrien waved somewhat awkwardly. "Sorry. I know you guys are closed, but I'm not here to buy anything."

"You're Marinette's friend, right?" he asked. "Adrien?"

Grinning, Adrien nodded, both thankful and pleased to be remembered.

"Marinette told us you gave up your spot in that gaming competition so she could participate." Tom smiled. "That was very generous of you."

"Well, only after she did the same thing for somebody else," Adrien explained, deciding it was probably appropriate to approach the counter. "Is, uh, Mari around?"

"Are you here to see her?" Tom appeared curious, his attention flicking quickly to the clock on the wall and back again.

"Uh, yeah." Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "We were supposed to workout together in the mornings." He probably should have texted her, especially after how he'd left things the night before. But he'd figured it'd be better to talk to her in person, and then he'd had his father to deal with. But maybe she would have assumed they weren't going through with their plans.

"Oh!" Tom looked surprised. "She didn't mention it. Hm, well, you can go on into the house. Sabine's there. Perhaps Marinette's gotten up after all."

"Thanks." Adrien smiled gratefully before heading around the counter. Having come in once before, he knew what to expect as he made his way to the second level and through the other door. Small kitchen and living room, with tall windows and a staircase on the right that led to Mari's room.

 _Ladybug's_ room.

"Um, hello?" he called quietly. A second later, Sabine poked her head around the corner, looking surprised and holding a glass of orange juice in her hand.

"Adrien?" So they both remembered him. He considered that a small sort of victory.

"Yeah, good morning. Um, Mr. Dupain said Mari didn't mention it, but we're supposed to be working out in the mornings together." Best to just get straight to the point, what with him being a strange teenager standing in their house during the early hours of the morning.

"Oh!" Sabine had come around entirely, smiling a bit as she did. "No, she didn't mention it. Marinette? Working out? Certainly I would have remembered if she'd said something."

Adrien smiled a little awkwardly.

"Well, I think I heard her walking around up there." Sabine had glanced up at the ceiling. "I thought it was early for her to be up, but if she had plans." She smiled wider at Adrien, her eyes crinkling just a bit at the sides. "You can check in and see. I was just about to head down to the bakery."

"Okay." Adrien nodded once. "Thanks, Mrs. Cheng."

"Just call me Sabine, honey," she replied, laying a single hand on his arm before she headed past him and down into the shop. Wasting little time, Adrien skipped up the stairs, knocking on the door once it was directly above his head.

No response.

"Mari?"

He thought he heard the sound of her rolling chair, so he waited a few moments. His patience was rewarded when, wood creaking, the door was lifted to reveal Mari standing above him. She was sporting a pink tank-top and matching, plaid pajama pants, her blue eyes wide with surprise as she stared down at him.

He was not pleased to see that she looked tired, and that her eyes were swollen red around the edges.

"Adrien?" he asked quietly, her voice somewhat rough.

"Uh, yeah…" His eyebrows furrowed as concern began to trickle in. He didn't like to consider it, that her state was due to him, but it was worth entertaining. Of course, he'd been so frustrated the night before that he hadn't considered wholly what his behavior would have done to her. But he certainly hadn't expected that it'd upset her to this extent. "Can I… Can I come up?"

"I, uh, sure," she replied, voice still far too quiet. She backed up, however, leaving him the space to ascend until he was stepping up into her bedroom.

Pink. So much pink.

She'd put a considerable amount of space between them, her hands folded in front of her as her whole posture seemed to hunch inward, starting with her shoulders. Which only unnerved Adrien more. Maybe he really should have texted her back.

"Mari, are- are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly.

"Because, last night," he shook his head, "we decided we were going to workout in the mornings, remember?"

"But you're…" She finally dared to look at him fully. "Aren't you angry with me?"

So it really was about him. But she looked like she'd been crying. Had she really been that upset? He'd been frustrated, sure, but he hadn't thought it'd affect her that badly. "Mari, no," he said quietly. "I said I wasn't mad."

"But…" Her breathing got a little shaky, lashes blinking vigorously. "You stopped talking to me. I thought you were really angry a-and I…"

"No, Mari, no." He took a single step toward her. "I was frustrated, but not with you. I didn't mean to make you think I was mad." But maybe his texts had been a little irritated. Maybe more. Probably more. "I'm not angry at you. And I certainly don't hate you."

"R-really?" she sniffed, her hand coming up to wipe at her eyes. Because, oh god, she was crying. He'd made Ladybug cry, just because he was a stupid idiot who didn't know how to text without sounding angry.

"No, oh god, no, My Lady." He closed the distance between them, placing a hand on her shoulder. Which only seemed to make her condition worse. She tried as best she could to wipe the tears away, but they fell anyway, streaking down her cheeks. It spilled out of her the way such things did when defenses were weak. When one had been crying only a short while before and the body was well-versed in acting so again. "I was never angry at you. I was frustrated with… with myself and my own problems, but not with you."

His reassurances didn't seem to be doing her much good. Her whole body began to tremble, lips quivering as she sniffed again. He hated seeing her like this, especially when he was the cause. Pulling closer, if only because he didn't know what else to do, he wrapped his arms around her until she was caught up in his embrace, her hands coming up against his chest as he leaned his chin on her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to make you think that. I should have texted you back. Please don't be upset." She'd seemed stiff at first, but as her hands fell more heavily against his chest, he held her tighter. Until her face was burrowed in his vest and her hiccups were muffled against the fabric.

Soon, her arms were wrapping around to his back, fingers gripping at his shirt.

"Please don't cry, Bugaboo," he murmured, running his own hands up and down her spine. None of his words seemed to have any effect however, and he felt all the guiltier for it. He didn't quite understand why she was so upset, even if he had been angry, but that didn't matter so much as the fact that he'd been the one to instigate it.

They stood like that for a few minutes, Adrien trying his best to silently console her while she sniffed against him. It wasn't until her breathing had evened out some—that she'd regained more control—that she spoke.

"You smell like him," she said quietly, Adrien furrowing his brows. "Like Chat Noir. You smell the same."

He almost laughed. "Well, that makes sense," he replied, conscious of keeping his tone gentle. "We are the same person."

She giggled a bit, before she finally leaned away from him. He let her go, his hands drifting back to her shoulders as she wiped her eyes again.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, glancing down at the floor.

"Don't be sorry," he said, managing a small smile. "Apparently I need to work on my communication skills." She laughed a little more, which was beyond relieving to him.

"No, but," she took a deep breath, "I am sorry about what I said…"

"You don't need to be sorry about the truth," he replied simply, still gripping her shoulders. "You probably had a point—about me acting differently. I just didn't realize I was doing it. And it's not your fault I'm… Gabriel Agreste's son or whatever. But that's why stuff like this is important." He leaned a bit lower, to be on her level. "The more we hang out, the more that goes away."

She nodded, smiling a bit before she leaned forward. She laid her forehead against his chest again, hands gripping lightly at the fabric of his vest. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing—because it wasn't exactly a hug—so he simply stood and let her do with him as she pleased.

"I was so afraid you were going to hate me," she murmured.

"I could never hate you," he said, completely certain. "I don't think I could even moderately dislike you." Her head nodded against him, before she took another deep breath and stepped back. This time fully, his hands falling from her shoulders in the same moment.

She appeared abruptly embarrassed, her fingers fiddling together before she reached up and pushed some of her hair behind her ear. Adrien wished he could have been the one to do so.

"Well, now that we've straightened that out," he started, shoving his hands into his pockets, "did you want to do anything this morning or just call it till tomorrow?"

"No, it's fine," she said, her smile shy. "I should do something active. It'll help clear this up before school." She gestured to her entire face.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She nodded, finally smiling fully. "I'll just get dressed and meet you downstairs in a minute."

"Alright." He looked her over one more time, ignoring the urge he had to pull her close again—until there was no swollen redness left to her expression. But she'd said her piece and he wasn't about to tell Ladybug what he thought she should and shouldn't do.

Turning, he headed back down the stairs, pulling the door closed as he did. He made his way to the kitchen counter—feeling somewhat awkward simply standing around in someone else's house—and pulled out his phone.

He had one new text message.

_**Father – We'll talk about this when you get home tonight.** _

Adrien curled his nose in distaste.

"I think you really did give him quite the shock," Plagg said, apparently reading over his shoulder. The kwami snickered, Adrien uncertain if there was actually anything humorous about the situation. "But I think it's good of you."

"You do?" Adrien asked, watching as Plagg touched down atop the counter.

"Sure. All teenagers need to be a little rebellious once in a while." Adrien pursed his lips. "Especially you."

"This wasn't about being rebellious," Adrien muttered. "I don't want to be controlled anymore, or watched twenty-four seven. And told that my own friends are a bad influence." He might not be an adult, but he wasn't incompetent. He could make some decisions on his own. Many more than his father allowed him, in any case.

"Hey, I'm not a critic," Plagg replied. "You think these people have any cheese?" "Don't even think about it," Adrien said simply, catching Plagg by the tail before he could flit off. In the same moment, Mari's bedroom door came open and she made her way down the stairs. Tikki was on her shoulder and came floating over upon seeing them. Much to Adrien's surprise, she nuzzled just quickly against his cheek before sitting herself down on the counter.

"Good morning, Adrien," she said happily.

"Good morning, Tikki," he replied, grinning as he reached out and petted her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes and buzzed happily.

He still had Plagg by the tail.

Mari came around to stand perpendicular to him. She was wearing a tight-fitting, black tank top, the straps of a pink sports bra poking out underneath. Her tiny shorts were also pink, as were her shoes.

"You really do like pink, don't you?" he asked, using the comment as an excuse to look her slowly up and down.

Her legs were well muscled, pale, and somehow gave off the illusion of being long despite her short stature.

No, he needed to not be thinking about such things. Mari was having enough trouble just being his friend—he didn't need to add to it.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, her face still red and swollen, but no longer struggling to stay composed.

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It's just kind of adorable."

"Don't patronize me," she said flatly.

"I wasn't!" he defended, laughing a bit at her disbelieving expression. "My apologies, My Lady. I meant nothing by it." Plagg had finally stopped trying to pull away, so Adrien let him go. Pouting, the kwami sank down beside Tikki, curled up, and closed his eyes.

Tikki reached out and patted him, the motion looking almost reassuring. It only got all the more cute when Plagg then wrapped his tail around Tikki. But, it made sense that they'd be so familiar with one another. They'd worked together for eons, or so Adrien had come to understand.

"So!" Mari interjected, as they'd both been distracted watching the kwami. "What's first?" She sounded like she was forcing a little too much happy-go-lucky into her voice, but Adrien didn't comment. Whatever she needed to feel comfortable, he'd work with it.

"Here, I made the schedule," he explained, pulling it up on his phone before handing it to her. "We're running about half an hour behind now," because he'd been late and then she'd been upset, "but we should still be able to do most of it."

While he'd talked, Mari had started scrolling through his phone, one of her eyebrows slowly rising before she glanced up at him skeptically.

"You want us to do _all_ of this?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"Well, yeah." His eyebrows smashed together. "I mean, it shouldn't be that bad. You look like you're in good shape and I know being Chat Noir has made me more fit. I can only imagine that being Lady-"

"I'm not doing all this," she said straight.

"What?"

"Running, I could deal with. But I'm not, exactly, the working out type to begin with. I'm not doing this super-crazy-hardcore workout. No." She handed him back his phone, Adrien gaping.

"This isn't that bad!" he replied, laughing. "It should be easy."

"It's the principle of the thing."

"What principle?"

"The fact that it's morning and I should be sleeping. That principle." She shook her head. "I'm not doing all that."

"It'll be easy," Adrien assured, but she wasn't hearing any of it. "C'mon! You'll breeze through it no problem."

"Nope." Turning, she walked across the room and sat down on the couch, Adrien gaping further as Plagg snickered. Sitting back, she set her feet up on the table, crossed her ankles, and reached for the television remote.

"No, no, no," Adrien said, rushing over and grabbing the remote from the arm of the couch before she could. "You promised."

"I did no such thing." She stuck her nose in the air and looked away.

"You lazy bum!" he accused. "Get up! It's time to be active."

"That goes against my religion."

"Religion?"

"I don't actually believe in exercise."

Adrien snorted. "You're Ladybug, which means you're full of crap. Now c'mon, you're being a brat."

"I'm not doing that crazy workout," she continued stubbornly. "I'll jog and stretch, but all those sprints and suicides and, just, no, I'm not doing that."

"Yes you are. I'll drag you outside if I have to," he threatened, standing above her.

"Go ahead." She still sat belligerently atop the cushions. So, Adrien shrugged. If that was the way she was going to be, then he could work with it. Without a second thought, be approached the coffee table, grabbed her by the ankles, and lifted.

"Hey!" She stiffened, glaring at him.

"You said I'd have to drag you, so that's what I'm doing," he said simply.

She kicked out, as if to free herself, but to no avail. He may have been skinny, but he was also strong. Much stronger than most teenagers their age and even adults. She was too, for that matter, but that didn't mean she could push him around. Fingers and arms straining, he kept hold of her ankles, even as she struggled against him.

"Are you going to get up?" he asked after a moment.

"No." She kicked out again.

"Fine." Huffing, he pulled, taking a few steps away. She yelped, sliding from the couch to the floor as he tugged her. With a slight thump, she landed butt-first in front of the cushions, Adrien finally dropping her ankles as he cast her the most scolding look he could muster.

She was still glaring. "I'm not doing it," she muttered dangerously. Sighing, Adrien reached down to grab her again, but she shuffled away. Getting on her hands and knees, she tried to crawl along the couch, but Adrien had the upper hand—what with the standing and all.

With only a few steps, he intercepted her. Grabbing her by the ankles again, he lifted and dragged, watching with a small smirk as she scraped her nails against the floor, the front of her tank-top swishing on the hardwood.

"Put me down!" she demanded, kicking out as best she could despite the difficulty of doing so when being pulled along on her stomach.

"Are you going to come outside with me?"

"No!"

"Okay then." He dragged her around the couch, watching as she futilely tried to grab at the floor and counter, if only to get some sort of leverage. But Adrien shoved the stools out of her reach on the way by, nodding to Tikki and Plagg, who both settled into his pockets.

"This is harassment!" she objected, her fingers still unable to grapple with anything that would hold her steady. "I don't wanna go!" She was kicking wildly now, Adrien having to pause and purse his lips, straining to hold her.

"I'll let you go only if you agree to come with me."

"Blackmail!"

"Fine. You want to do it the hard way, we'll do it the hard way." Continuing on, he held her as she wriggled, dragging her through the small entranceway and to the door that led down into the bakery. Thankfully, Sabine had left the door open, so all he had to do was pull her through. She tried to grab at the edge of the door, but he tugged her a little faster before she could, much to her growling irritation.

"Stairs," he warned, rounding the banister to the small set of steps. Cautious not to fall himself, he made sure to be careful with her as well, amused as she tried to grab each step and continued to fail in fighting against him.

By the time they reached the bottom, she appeared to have given up, her arms lying out before her like spaghetti noodles as her cheek dragged against the stone floor.

"Will you be good and cooperate if I let you go?" he asked, once they'd reached the door that led to the bakery. All she did was growl however, so he took that as a no. With his elbow—because he couldn't very well release one of her legs and give her the leverage to get away—he bent back and pushed down on the door handle, hooking it quickly and tugging just enough to barely open it. Slipping his foot in the crack, he then shoved it open completely.

"Watch out for the door," he warned as he dragged her through. No longer struggling, she was like a sack of flour trailing over the floor, Adrien dragging her around and up beside the counter.

It was only when Tom and Sabine, who were standing behind the cash register, paused in their organizing to look at him that he came to a halt.

Because, well, this probably didn't look all that good to her parents.

But she was the one being difficult!

"Uh…" Tom looked between him, Mari, and his wife, as if at a loss for what to think. Sabine just blinked.

Adrien pursed his lips, only more determined when Mari had the audacity to groan pathetically. As if to garner sympathy from her parents.

"I'm taking this," he said, nodding once to them as he held up Mari's foot for validation.

"Wait…" Tom was clearly conflicted. "What?" He looked to his wife for guidance.

His wife, who appeared thoughtful. Before, ultimately, nodding.

"Okay," she agreed. "Just make sure you're both back in time for school."

"Thanks." Adrien grinned, only more satisfied when Mari moaned pathetically from the floor.

"Sabine!" Tom was aghast. "You- You're just- You let some boy go up into her room without us there and now you're going to let him drag her out of the bakery against her will?"

"Yeah!" Mari agreed, voice slightly muffled. "What's up with that, Mom?"

"Oh, they're alright." Sabine didn't sound the least bit concerned. "Adrien's a nice boy."

" _Mom_ …" Mari moaned.

"Well… okay…" Tom eventually agreed, much to Mari's whimpering distress.

"We'll be back before school," Adrien assured, pulling her across the floor again. About halfway to the front door, she raised a hand and waved pitifully to her parents—quite as though it was the last time she'd see them—before he finished dragging her out into the street.

Once they were clear of the door, he pulled her off to the side and finally released her ankles. Like a frumpy sack, she remained facedown and didn't move.

"You really are being dramatic," he said, pooching his lips as he shifted his weight from one hip to another. "Well, rise and shine, time to get moving."

"No."

"Okay, fine," he said, voice light. "Guess you're just not up to the challenge. I understand. I mean, I'd be intimidated too." He'd turned away, as though seriously contemplating her predicament. "I am an impressive sight, really. Not everyone could handle being seen exercising with me." He curled his arm up into the air, flexing. "All these muscles combined with my dashingly good looks. It's not your fault." Putting his hands on his hips, he twisted back around to look at her.

She'd rolled over onto her back, lips slightly parted and one eye twitching up at him. She was clearly not impressed or amused with his display, which only made Adrien grin wider.

"Don't worry though, Mare-Bear, you're not alone in your weakness."

"I hate you…" she muttered, before finally pushing herself to her feet. She was glaring at him, but he really didn't mind at all.

"That's alright. Just so long as you know I could never hate you." He winked.

Grumbling to herself, she stretched her arms and legs only quickly, Adrien doing the same. He couldn't wipe away the smirk that had settled across his lips, which only seemed to bother her more and more. Until, finally, she was huffing and looking relatively ready to go.

"So I thought we could go around the-"

He was interrupted when, out of nowhere, she grinned and lunged forward. In one swift motion, she knocked him off balance—just enough to cause him to stumble back against the bakery window—before taking off.

Running. Running away from him.

"Hey!" he yelled, shoving himself up off the window trim before taking off after her. She'd glanced at him over her shoulder, laughing, but didn't slow. If anything, she only sped up more, sprinting down the sidewalk as Adrien pursed his lips and pushed his own legs to work.

"I'm faster than you, you know!" he shouted at her, already beginning to take up some of the distance between them.

"Yeah right!"

"Longer legs!" he replied, stretching said appendages further if only to make a point to himself. She tried to keep away, but by the time they were reaching the corner, he'd nearly caught her. Reaching out, he went to grab her, but she shied away at the last second.

Skidding to a stop, she bounced off her own momentum, spun, and flew back around him—back the way they'd come.

Flailing in surprise, Adrien whipped around as well, but she was already running again.

"I thought you wanted to do sprints!" she yelled, laughing again.

Taking off after her, Adrien grinned, all the more determined as he stretched his muscles and pushed onward. There was less distance between them now, so he caught up to her in half the time. He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to accomplish, reaching out to grab her arm, but he didn't think too hard on it.

Again, she evaded capture, slipping to the side and whirling around to run back the other way.

He may have been faster, but she was quicker—more nimble. Even with his heel slamming into the sidewalk and making the perfect springboard, he couldn't catch her on the turn.

Once more, he was stuck chasing her as she laughed into the morning air.

She was at the corner by the time he was close again, and probably would have successfully flitted away once more had her eyes not caught on something in the street perpendicular. Instead, obviously distracted, she tripped instead of spun, arms failing as she headed straight for a face full of concrete.

Thankfully close enough, Adrien was able to grab her by the straps of her tank-top and yank her back. Stumbling, she was wide-eyed as she caught herself, standing beside him as he flicked his attention to whatever had distracted her.

"Master Fu!" he said, smiling a moment later. The older man was standing outside his little shop, a small cup of tea in his hand. There was a light smile in place on his own lips, eyes squinting as he looked up at them.

"Good morning," he said simply, Marinette finally recovered enough to grin awkwardly back at him. "I'm glad to see you two together," he went on. "Early hours' exercise?"

"Uh, something like that," Adrien replied, supposing that the two of them chasing each other up and down the street was a kind of exercise, if not what they'd intended.

"Good." Master Fu was visibly pleased. "The more time you spend together, the better off you'll be."

"See, I told you," Adrien muttered, crossing his arms as he looked down at Mari.

She rolled her eyes.

"The better you know one another outside of your duty, the better prepared you'll be," Master Fu said simply, before raising his cup to them. "Would you like some tea?"

A seemingly odd subject change, yet somehow not surprising. Shrugging, Adrien nodded, Mari doing much the same as they followed Master Fu into his shop. There, at a table by the window, he had a tray holding an old, clay teapot. Adrien didn't know much about such things, but he gathered it was likely an antique.

Sipping from a cup sitting nearby was Wayzz, who glanced up at them only momentarily.

Tikki and Plagg were zipping out of Adrien's pockets a moment later, settling on the tray beside Wayzz as Master Fu went behind his front counter and pulled out two more tiny teacups. They were Chinese, Adrien thought, or so the characters on the sides led him to believe.

"I can only assume you're both adapting well to the change," Master Fu went on, pouring them each a cup before offering up the old ceramics. Adrien was careful as he handled it, Mari looking curiously at the designs.

"We're… getting there," Adrien replied, his morning in Mari's room still fresh in his mind. She seemed to understand the implication of his words, if her red cheeks and diverted stare said anything, so he bumped her with his elbow. A friendly, good-natured gesture.

"Good, good." Master Fu nodded, returning to his own tea as the teenagers sipped theirs. "And you've returned the book successfully to your father's safe?"

Adrien's blood ran cold and he coughed against the tea.

"Uh, yeah. It- it's back. Safe and sound." He tried to grin, but it wasn't very convincing. Which procured curious looks from both Mari and Master Fu. Yet, he didn't elaborate on the subject and neither of them asked.

"I'm glad. That is a relief." Master Fu nodded. "It's good to know it is well guarded. In the wrong hands, such a book could be very dangerous."

"What was in it, exactly?" Mari asked.

"Many things," Master Fu replied. "Knowledge of the miraculous' power and sources, history too. Things that only true miraculous holders should know." They both took his meaning. Miraculous holders like them, who used their powers for good. Not like Hawkmoth.

"But you wanted my father to have the book…" Adrien added quietly.

"Yes, this is true. But I believe it will be safer in your home, under lock and key, than anywhere else. It is a choice between two types of security. Neither is perfect, but one or the other had to be chosen."

"Right, security," Adrien muttered, watching as his tea swished in his cup. He didn't see the puzzled looks that passed between Master Fu and Mari, or how Mari's expression turned to concern upon looking back up at him.

Master Fu took a deep breath. "I must not keep you though," he said, drawing Adrien's attention up once again. "It is good to have visits from such young people—invigorating—but you have very busy schedules, no doubt." He held out his hand for their empty teacups.

"Not too busy," Mari said, smiling. "We don't mind stopping by."

Master Fu nodded, returning her smile, before they gathered the kwami back into Adrien's pockets. Saying short farewells, they were soon back out in the sunlight, walking a bit until they were clear of Master Fu's shop.

That was when Adrien heard Mari clear her throat. His stomach dropped.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, sounding almost hesitant beside him. He didn't look at her, afraid any type of worried expression would make him feel guilty about lying.

"No." He shrugged. "Everything's fine." He forced a grin, looking down at her without _actually_ looking. "You want to do more sprints or are you afraid I'll beat you this time. Because I will."

She didn't seem to find his deflection humorous, her expression remaining both serious and concerned as his smile faltered.

"Adrien…"

"There's nothing wrong," he said, realizing too late that the words had been far too defensive. "It's just stupid stuff between my father and I. Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it."

"Why? It's normal."

"Because you're my friend."

Which caused Adrien to purse his lips. That word really got to him sometimes and now he felt even worse for lying. Especially to Ladybug, who'd been so upset over one conversation that she'd cried—because she'd thought he'd hate her.

"Look, it's…" He almost said "not a big deal," but that wasn't true. At all. His father had figured him out—that was a very big deal. "My father and I have a complicated relationship, okay? I really don't want to talk about it." He couldn't take the heaviness of her gaze, his own focus going to the road.

He knew he wasn't in the clear when she stepped in front of him, a hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. "Kitty…"

Ugh, why'd she have to call him _that_? Straight to the jugular.

He shifted, feeling hot as he tried to avoid the subject that was trying to inch its way out of him. "We just had a fight is all, nothing serious. Happens all the time." And yet, she didn't appear at all convinced. "Really."

"You're hiding something," she determined. Which only downed him more.

"It's not a big deal, My Lady…" he muttered. "I'm not hiding anything. I just… don't want to talk about it."

She didn't look pleased with his continued evasion, but didn't press the subject any further either. Though he wouldn't have held it against her (he couldn't hold anything against her), it would be sort of inappropriate to ask more when he'd denied her so many times already.

Rather, her hand slipped from his person a second later, her displeasure slowly seeping away to be replaced by concern. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she asked.

He sighed. "I know. I just… It's complicated." He wanted to move on, to drop the subject. It was bad enough, the humiliation that someone had found out his secret—and right after Master Fu had warned them to be careful. He wasn't sure he had it in him to admit to her his failure. Not yet anyway. "Let's just keep going, okay?"

She didn't want to give in, he could tell, but, ultimately, she took a huffing breath and nodded. Offering him a comforting smile, she turned to head back down the sidewalk again, Adrien doing all he could to push away the heavy rock sitting in the middle of his chest.

He didn't wholly succeed.


	4. Part One - True and False

"Your father is waiting for you in the sitting room." Adrien hadn't even been two feet inside the door when Nathalie made her announcement. Naturally, his father couldn't simply come get him on his own—he had to have Nathalie fetch him like some kind of obligated appointment.

Which was when Adrien had an idea.

"Okay," he said simply, shrugging and blinking at Nathalie only once before turning away. He headed for the stairs. Which was, quite clearly, not the direction of the sitting room. But he was tired of being treated like some kind of employee.

"A-Adrien!" Nathalie stuttered, surprised by his behavior. But he didn't bother replying. Rather, still fueled by his determination from the morning, he went straight to his room before shucking off his shoes and setting his bag down on his desk. He plopped down on his computer chair following, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Plagg had zipped out, but was apparently cautious enough to realize he probably wasn't safe in plain view—as they'd likely be interrupted shortly.

Adrien didn't let it bother him, albeit with force of mind. Instead, he kept his jaw tight as he opened his text window to Mari. Just as he was about to begin typing, however, he heard the familiar clicking of his bedroom door.

Already fed up with the whole situation, he laid his phone on his desk and turned in the chair to face the intruder. When his father's tall silhouette was what entered, he slouched a bit more in his seat.

Clearly, Gabriel was not pleased. He came to stand directly in front of Adrien, his hands clasped behind his back. There was a certain degree of stiffness to his posture that spoke of disapproval and his lips were pursed into an even thinner line than usual.

Adrien refused to speak first, instead staring up at his father while fiddling with his bracelet.

"You were asked to meet me in the sitting room," Gabriel eventually said.

"Yeah, so?" Adrien replied, an itch in the back of his head warning him that maybe he was stretching his legs a bit too much. But he ignored it, instead turning away from his father to face the numerous computer monitors atop his desk. Reaching out, he moved his mouse, as if he really intended to ignore the fact that his father was there.

Gabriel took a short breath. "I don't appreciate this new attitude you seem to have adopted."

"And I don't appreciate being treated like one of your employees, but we can't all get what we want." Leaning forward, Adrien put his elbow on the desk and his cheek in his hand, admiring the background photo of his mother before opening a new internet tab and shortcutting his way to the Ladyblog.

"Adrien, look at me."

So he did, and then looked back at his monitor a second later. He knew he was pushing it—really, _really_ pushing it—but part of him wanted to see how far he could go. Now that he'd started, he didn't want to stop.

Even if he was running before he knew how to walk.

"Your behavior is inappropriate."

"Your parenting is inappropriate." Yeah, that was definitely too far. He knew it as soon as he said it, lips cringing as the words were let loose.

"Adrien Michel!"

" _What_?"

" _Look_ at me!"

And so Adrien did, though he made it quite clear he wasn't happy about it. He remained slouched in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he mustered the most unenthused look possible. He said nothing, belligerently grinding his teeth in much the same fashion his father oftentimes did.

"The way you're acting now and the way you acted this morning is completely inappropriate," his father said harshly, Adrien flicking his eyes to the side despite how he remained facing the conflict. "I don't know what's gotten into you, whether it's that… ring or something else, but it ends. Now."

Adrien actually scoffed. "Nothing is ending." He met his father's gaze bravely. "This doesn't have to do with my ring or anything else. This has to do with _you_. And how you treat me. I'm tired of it."

"You seemed fine until just this morning."

"No, I wasn't!" Abruptly standing, Adrien gathered his full height, thankful he was only a head shorter than his father these days. He'd probably never be as tall as Gabriel—not with how small-boned his mother had been—but that didn't mean he couldn't strike just as intimidating a pose. "I wasn't fine. I haven't been 'fine' in a long time."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Adrien gestured flippantly. "Like you'd have listened."

Gabriel huffed, his posture breaking as he slammed his hands to his hips. "You're not acting like yourself. What point is there in listening to a petulant child?"

"See? And there it is." Adrien shook his head. "I'm not 'acting like myself?' No, Father. For the first time, I _am_ acting like myself. I don't know who you think I am, but the perfect little performer you parade around isn't me. It's me being what you _want_ me to be. And I'm tired of it."

Gabriel had closed his eyes and looked to be forcefully keeping his breathing controlled. Like some sort of composure exercise.

"Don't you get it?" Adrien asked desperately, voice straining. "I'm tired of being locked in here all the time. Of-of being scheduled away from everything I want to do. I've been going to public school for almost a whole semester and I still only have, like, two real friends." Exempting Plagg. "Don't you know how messed up that is? You've kept me so… so _isolated_ that I don't even know how to make friends right!" He was constantly afraid that he was going to do something and mess up what few relationships he had managed to procure—with Nino and with Marinette. What if he screwed up and they left? What if he said the wrong thing and they just walked away?

Like his mother had left him?

"And then, when they do happen to be over, _you_ kick them out!"

"I was only doing what I thought was best."

"Best for _who_?!"

"Best for you!" It was Gabriel's turn to gesture sharply outward. "Do you think I hired a bodyguard simply to throw away money? That I have you driven to school because I think you can't walk properly? I'm trying to keep you _safe_ , Adrien!"

"By keeping me away from the world?!"

"If that's what it takes! You'd still be homeschooled if I hadn't thought you'd keep running away!"

Those words had practically stabbed Adrien right through. "That's not fair! I'm not some… porcelain show-bird that you can keep locked up! I'm not going to break the moment I step outside!" Clearly, as he'd been partaking in quite a few dangerous extra curriculars as of late.

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"Why?!"

"Because you're my son!"

"So I have to be alone forever?! That's not how it works! You don't get to keep me locked away, ignore me like I don't even exist, and then decide what's best! You don't know what's best!"

"I know enough!"

"Why? Because of Mom?!"

Gabriel clicked his tongue. "You're mother…"

"Disappeared?" That was what Adrien had always been told. "What? Are you afraid the same thing's going to happen to me?"

"Your mother is an entirely different situation," Gabriel said through gritted teeth, Adrien's eyes narrowing into a glare. "We're talking about _you_. While I understand your grievances, you're still the son of an affluent designer and there are those that would seek to harm you to get to me."

"Maybe," Adrien replied shortly. "But no bodyguard or car detail is going to protect me better than I can protect myself."

"You're not invincible!"

"But I am capable! And I'm not going to let fear of the world, and the people in it, stop me from doing what I want to do!"

"The 'world' isn't nearly as expansive and exciting as you seem to think it is."

"Says the man who gets to fly off to wherever he wants, whenever he wants, while I'm stuck here with nothing and no one. Sure there's Nathalie, but she's not exactly good for relatable conversation," or any conversation. "And you've forbidden my best friend from coming in the house. What am I supposed to do, sit here and play the piano all day?"

"You've always had plenty to preoccupy yourself."

"Yeah! And now I'm fluent in Mandarin, but I have no one to speak it to!"

"I'm just trying to keep you safe, Adrien! Especially since you seem so dead set on putting yourself in dangerous situations!"

"It's my responsibility!"

"It doesn't _have_ to be your responsibility!"

"I want it to be!"

"All you're doing in endangering your life!"

"Rather a short life that I get to _live_ than a long one shut away from everything!"

" _That is an ignorant statement_!" His father actually yelled, but Adrien took it resolutely. He stood by everything he'd said—he'd had enough time to himself to think about it. "You don't have the life experience to know the value of living!"

"And whose fault is that?!"

"I'm trying to _protect you_!"

Adrien growled, tired of hearing the same point over and over and over again. And so, maybe, he lost a bit of control. Maybe the words were ready to be fired before he'd had the chance to really think them through.

"Like you protected Mom?!" he shouted. "Is that why she left?!"

"Your mother-"

"Is _gone_!" Adrien interrupted harshly. "And sometimes I wonder if she really did disappear, or if she just _left_!" Gabriel's blue eyes widened. "If you didn't suffocate the life out of her like you're trying to do to me! If she didn't feel like the only way she could breathe was to get _away_ from you!"

They were thoughts he'd entertained when he'd missed her most—when he'd stayed up till the darkest hours of the night wondering what had happened and needing answers despite how there were none. He'd never intended to say such things out loud, never wanted to, but he felt like he was sitting on the edge of something important and if he didn't fight with everything he had, he'd be pulled back from what lay below.

He'd never thought any of his clawing would actually puncture his father's thickened armor. Never thought it was possible.

But Gabriel actually flinched away from him, that mask Adrien knew so well shattering as the implication of his words knifed through the space between them. The accusation was the worst he could have possibly thrown—especially when there was so much uncertainty surrounding his mother's disappearance. Whether she'd left or been taken; why any of it had happened at all. Whether she was alive or dead. Placing blame would have been comforting, or at least provided closure, but they'd never even been offered that outlet.

And just like, sometimes, Adrien blamed himself for it all, he knew his father did too. But those weren't things you said out loud. Those weren't truths that should ever touch the open air.

Adrien was filled with regret as soon as the acid had left his tongue, but the look on his father's face stopped him from being able to formulate any sort of recourse. He'd never seen that part of Gabriel before—the broken, distressed longing that Adrien sometimes saw in his own mirror.

It was gone as soon as it'd come, but that didn't change the fact that Adrien had seen it, or that he'd been the one to cause such exposure.

He wanted to apologize, to take it back, but he didn't know how.

Gabriel swallowed, glancing away as he carefully clasped his hands behind his back. Adrien watched him, somewhat hunched within himself as the words throbbed between them—like an exposed wound that, once, had been properly stoppered, only to start flowing anew at Adrien's volition.

"Thank you," Gabriel said, his voice causing Adrien to twitch, "for making your feelings about me so clear. You've made your point… quite efficiently."

Adrien wanted to reach out, to catch the pieces before they could fall, but he felt as though he possessed a net with no bottom. Or perhaps a bag full of holes. Scars that were sliced open again couldn't be sewn back up as though nothing had happened—he couldn't go back in time and stop himself. He'd done this and he didn't know how to undo it.

Especially when the blood was running so freely between them.

"I'll leave you," Gabriel finished, turning away as he did. Posture stiff, he marched from the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

Adrien, on the other hand, remained in place, unsure what he was feeling—if he was feeling anything at all. His whole body felt numb, or like it was thin and capable of popping at any moment. Something trickled along his skin, but wasn't breaking through.

He knew the feeling. Shock. He'd been there before.

Gulping, he consciously forced himself into motion, putting one foot in front of the other. His phone felt like a brick as he picked it up off his desk, and his bed too soft as he sank down on the edge.

Blinking, he continued to push away the pinpricks trying to get through, instead pointedly putting his focus on his phone.

Right. He'd been texting Mari. Robotically, his thumbs typed at the keys.

_Adrien – So we gonna make plans for this weekend?_

He hoped she was around—that she'd reply right away. He was not disappointed.

**Marinette – Ugh, I can't. I forgot, Saturday I have to help my parents cater for this huge party downtown. And Sunday my grandparents are visiting.**

_Adrien – I'd be happy to meet your grandparents ;b_

**Marinette – I bet you would, Kitty. But I don't think my parents would appreciate me inviting friends over when I'm supposed to be spending time with my family.**

_Adrien – What about tomorrow after school?_

**Marinette – I have to help my parents prepare everything for Saturday :(**

**Marinette – I'm sorry. I know I said we could hang out on the weekends, and I meant it. Just not this weekend, unfortunately.**

_Adrien – Nah, it's alright. Don't worry about it :)_

**Marinette - :)**

Staring down at his phone, Adrien tapped his fingers almost anxious on the sides before he pulled up another chat window—this time to Nino.

_Adrien – Hey, what're you doing this weekend?_

He waited, but Nino must have been busy. Because, soon, the silence was letting everything else creep in. He scrolled through his contacts, but none of them were viable for any distraction. He considered texting Mari again, if only to talk to her, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Rather, his bedroom just kept getting heavier and heavier all around him, until he thought the isolation might crush him.

Until he thought he might break.

Reaching up, he wiped at his eyes, the feeling of dampness there only making it easier for all those trickling feelings to seep in. He cringed, and tried to fight it, but ultimately knew he couldn't. Though his throat felt empty, and dry as sandpaper, he could feel the flood of emotion welling up inside him. Until it was waiting, just at the rim, to spill over. Blinking didn't stop it, nothing did, and soon hot tears were streaking down his cheeks. Trying to smear them away did nothing—more fell and left salty tracks in their wake.

Until he was sniffing, and trembling, and giving up the fight entirely.

He felt Plagg on his shoulder, but didn't look at him. Couldn't bring himself to—even when the little kwami brushed his head against Adrien's jaw, no doubt catching tears on his soft, velvet ears.

It was just too much, too heavy, and he didn't know what else to do but cry.

**oOo**

The Procrastinator—said with more space before "nator." It was an obnoxious akuma, to be sure, and was causing Ladybug more grief than she liked to admit. But akumas with projectile like powers were always the worst—especially when those powers weren't of the strictly physical nature. Instead, every bullet-like spitball that was shot their way had to be avoided entirely, otherwise they'd disappear. Apparently like this akuma wanted their deadlines and schoolwork to do.

"We need to get that stupid _straw_!" Chat growled beside her, just about as fed up with the whole situation as she was. It was 4 a.m. (why was Hawkmoth awake so late anyway?!) on a Monday morning, and they'd been up, chasing this thing all over Paris, since two. Not exactly how Marinette had planned to spend the night, especially with school only another four hours away.

They'd already used Cataclysm and Lucky Charm twice, which had then required recharging—and that was hard to come by when the city was asleep. Overall, it'd become a huge hassle, both Ladybug and Chat Noir were tired, and they just wanted to get it over with.

The akuma, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He'd already spit-balled his university into oblivion, as well as his place of work, and was, apparently, intent on his parents' house next. Getting their miraculouses seemed to be less of his priority, and Ladybug wondered if, perhaps, this particular akuma was more focused on personal endeavors—like the Evillustrator had been.

"Let's just try the dependable one-two," Chat muttered grumpily beside her. They'd already gone for two elaborate plans, which had failed. And, before that, tried their typical "Chat be the distraction while Ladybug gets the akuma." That was what he was proposing they do again, which suited Ladybug just fine. They had to reenter the conflict somehow and that was usually a good way to start things off.

"Alright," she agreed, the two jumping between roofs as they trailed the demon. He was dressed in the flashiest of suits, shapes and colors bright even in the moonlight. A moving distraction, which seemed fitting. A jester hat sat on his head and his long, plastic, almost weapon-like spitball straw was firmly in his fist.

"I'll head around to the left," Chat said simply, Ladybug nodding.

With only a quick look at one another, he was off, bounding on all fours to the street parallel before he was running along the rooftops. Ladybug went to the right, much more conscious of being quiet. It was Chat that was supposed to draw the akuma's attention, after all, not her. Despite his ability to be silent, Chat was allowing his boots to clatter loudly, eventually whooping as he vaulted in his attempts to draw the demon's attention.

His efforts didn't fail. The akuma came to a screeching halt, turning on Chat immediately. His spitball straw was at his lips within seconds, the irritating popping—almost similar to a gatling gun—going off as he aimed each ball in Chat's direction.

"Gonna have to do better than that!" Chat taunted, ricocheting between chimneys and vaulting into flips back and forth as he dodged each incoming bullet. He had a stupid grin on his face the whole time, like he was actually enjoying himself, and Ladybug might have rolled her eyes were she not so preoccupied with sneaking up behind the akuma.

Quiet as the slight breeze, she bounded from her roof to the one upon which the akuma stood, legs straining as she surged immediately from the jump into a run.

"How stupid do you think I am?" the akuma questioned, just as she was about to grab his multicolored shoulders and flip around to get the straw. He turned on her as she was reaching out, a spitball at the ready.

Eyes wide, Ladybug reacted just in time, skidding down on her knees across the shingles as she bent back flat. She watched with a jolting heart as the tiny white bullet grazed only centimeters above her nose, before she slid harshly by the akuma.

"Hey!" Chat's severe, hollering voice came out of nowhere. Ladybug flicked her attention to the sky, watching him come down hard, staff spinning. He was scowling, clearly irritated by the Procrastinator's attempt to attack her, and was likely only thinking with one thing in mind.

Be a distraction. Any sort of distraction.

He'd left himself completely open in his attempts. Vaulting into the air didn't give him any leverage—he couldn't bounce between structures or hide. He was completely exposed. A direct target.

An _easy_ target.

"Chat!" Ladybug screamed, but it was too late. He knew it too, if the hard determination on his face said anything. He'd acted knowing exactly what would happen, if only to save her the same fate. The spitball hit him square in the chest, and, just like that, he was gone.

Zapped right out of the air—as if he'd never been.

" _Chat_!" Ladybug screamed again, already having staggered to her feet.

Thankfully, the akuma was preoccupied. "What do you mean, I shouldn't have attacked him?" He laughed, Ladybug snarling. "He was in the way." Talking to Hawkmoth. "Well, we're working on my agenda now, and I like to do things my way."

He turned to Ladybug then, grinning as he raised his straw to his lips once more.

"Lucky Charm!" she shouted, more wrath coating her words than was probably typical. But she'd just watched her partner, Chat Noir— _Adrien_ —get zapped into nothing. Gone. As if he'd never existed. And she couldn't let that stand. This akuma _had_ to go.

What fell into her hands was a black and red, polka dotted cube of tiny building blocks. It was about the length, width, and height of her forearms, and she gripped it by the little holes in the bottom as she surged forward.

Bombarded by spitballs, she used the cube as a shield, each little block chipping away and disappearing as it was hit. But the fractioned bits gave her time when she might not have had any, the cube nearly depleted as she jumped directly down in front of the akuma.

He looked startled, but continued firing. Until the cube was only the bottom layer, falling apart even as she reached for the straw.

Yet, the spitballs kept coming, Ladybug's teeth gritting as she closed the distance between them.

She had only one block left, the one into which her hand was tucked, and she knew if she didn't grab that straw within the moment, she'd be gone. Neither she nor Hawkmoth will have won and there'd be an uncontrollable akuma on the loose with no one to stop it.

Fingers outstretched, she aimed for the straw. But she feared she wouldn't be fast enough.

Muscles straining, she could see the way the akuma took in a breath, readying to fire again. To let loose on her. Yet, just as she was about to graze the end of that straw, it snapped away.

To the side, the akuma's attention falling beyond her.

It was the moment she needed.

Grabbing hold of the straw, she flipped forward in the same moment, easily pushing her body into the air while ripping the weapon from the Procrastinator's hands. Landing on the roof a moment later, she turned with steady feet, if only to guard her back, before snapping the straw atop her knee.

There was something there, something that had been behind her and distracted the akuma, but all Ladybug registered was a flash of blue before she was pushing on.

She didn't have time to worry about such things.

Whipping out her yoyo, she captured the akuma, purified it, and set it free. Before reaching down to retrieve the lone block that was left of her Lucky Charm.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" she called, tossing it into the air. The block exploded into a bright flash of magic ladybugs, which burst and soared through the city. The university was returned, the print shop where the akuma had worked. Everything. Until, finally, they rushed up beside Ladybug herself, spinning and dazzling and revealing first two metal-toed boots, then muscular black legs, wiry chest, and, finally, that familiar blonde head.

As simply as that, she felt as though she could breathe again.

He stumbled, as if he'd been returned mid-jump, before righting himself and propping his staff up on his shoulder. "Why, My Lady!" he said, grinning. "I suppose I must have vanished there for a moment. Good to know my cat-nap didn't dissuade our victory."

Watching him—the lazy way he stood and how his smile seemed so easy—she almost said something. Almost. But then the groan of their victim snapped her attention, reminding her that they were not, in fact, alone.

"Ugh, what happened?" the young man—probably in his early twenties—asked from where he was on his hands and knees.

"Don't worry," Chat said, walking right up to him. "We'll get you back where you belong." He crouched down, laying a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.

"Ch-Chat Noir?!"

"And Ladybug, of course," Chat added, winking in Ladybug's direction.

"That means I- But I didn't- Oh God!" The young man sat back, gripping at his face. "I've lost time! My final project is due tomorrow! How many hours did I lose?! Oh no!"

Chat laughed a bit awkwardly. "Uh, well, sorry about that." He shrugged, quite as though he didn't know what to say. "But we'll get you back now, okay?" And so they did. Carrying him bridal style, Chat sprinted across the city with Ladybug swinging behind. It wasn't until they'd safely returned the victim to his dorm room and were skipping back over the roofs that Ladybug was able to let what happened settle fully into her system.

It caused her to slow, until she'd come to a complete stop. Chat skidded to a halt shortly afterward, both of them standing on the ledge of a tall skyscraper as he turned to her.

She didn't look at him. Instead, she stared at her feet.

"My Lady?" he asked, approaching until there was only about a meter between them.

"Why do you do that?" she asked quietly, hands balling into fists at her sides.

"Do what?"

"Do _that_?!" she snapped, finally glancing up at him. She knew her expression was sharp, unyielding, and she set it on him with all the force she could muster. "Always jumping in and getting hurt or thrown around or hypnotized or-or vanishing! I wish you'd stop!"

He blinked stupidly, appearing completely taken aback by her statement. A small gape even managed to weasel its way onto his face, his practically clueless expression only infuriating Ladybug more.

"L-Ladybug," he finally managed to stutter out. "I was just doing what… what I had to."

"By putting yourself in danger?"

"If that's what it takes, yes." He shrugged, quite as though it were obvious, which didn't do much for his case.

"Well, stop!" she said again. "You don't need to put yourself in danger for me."

He gaped fully. "Uh, yeah, actually I do." He said it almost like she was being ridiculous, as if her own reasons were absurd, not his own needlessly protective actions. "I'm expendable, Ladybug. You're not. I get… zapped into oblivion and you can bring me back. That happens to you and we're sunk."

Which was true. She _knew_ it was true. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Because that just gave him more reason to keep jumping in front of her and taking hits when she didn't want him to. For all the logic behind it, none made it easier to watch when he literally disappeared right before her eyes.

Granted, usually it wasn't quite that bad—she could deal with him being hypnotized or manipulated. But watching him just… vanish like that—it was too much. Because, really, for those few minutes when she'd been alone, he'd been…

She couldn't even finish the thought.

"Look, Ladybug." Chat shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck as he did. "It's not like I don't think you're capable or something. I don't mean to get in your way. I know you don't need to be protected and-"

"That's not it," she said shortly, turning away. "You don't get in my way."

He sighed. "Then why are you irritated? If the spitball had hit you, that akuma would still be out there."

"I know…" Really, Chat was right. He didn't protect her needlessly. Only when it was imperative or convenient. She didn't like it though, that his actions were justified. She didn't want them to be. Part of it was because she didn't like the idea of him putting her life before his own, but also the fact that she couldn't do the same for him. If he was about to be zapped into nothing, she couldn't jump in front of him the same way he'd do for her. That would accomplish nothing. Coming in and yanking him out of certain situations was one thing, but she couldn't sacrifice the way he could.

And that… It was something she realized made her chest tight with discomfort, as well as anxiety.

"My Lady…?"

"Just be careful, alright?" she asked quietly, turning away from him as she did. "You're not expendable to me." Grabbing her yoyo off her hip, she took off, forcefully ending the conversation. She knew he trailed behind her, but no more words were exchanged. Not until they reached their neighborhood, anyway, where they said short farewells and agreed to see each other in school. Which, by default, meant they were skipping their morning workout. But seeing as doing so would give them two more hours of sleep, neither saw reason to complain.

It wasn't until she was sitting on her bed, legs crossed beneath her in the darkness, that Marinette began to regret having gotten testy with him. It felt like whiplash. One moment she'd been excited to see him—if only due to an akuma—and then rushed and angry and distressed, to lastly be back in her bedroom feeling like she'd missed out on some kind of opportunity.

She knew why, really.

She'd missed him.

It was stupid, actually. They'd been apart a total of two days. Two days that she'd anticipated she'd think only as much of him as she typically did (which, when it came to Adrien, was a considerable amount). Yet, she'd never actually been downed at not being able to spend time with him. They'd texted back and forth most of Saturday and Sunday, which was more communication than she'd had with him a week prior. And, yet, she'd been left feeling dejected. And regretful. As if she should have gone to some great effort to see him that weekend despite having gone to school with him the Friday before.

Groaning, she flopped facedown on her pillow. Part of her wanted to blame the whole situation on her crush, which would be reasonable. But that didn't seem totally correct. Rather, it was almost as if she'd grown accustomed to having him around, bothering her in and out of costume, in only a few days. Which was absolutely ridiculous.

No, it was probably because she liked him, and now she had access to him. It was nice, too, that he wanted to spend time with her. Even if he was obnoxious about it.

Resolute in scheduling more time with him later that week, she fell into a fitful slumber, only somewhat rested as she walked across the street to school a few hours later.

"You definitely didn't look both ways." His voice sparked in her ear, seeming to revive her some as she turned to look up at him. He smiled, though it was more subdued than some of Chat's manic grins. Still, Marinette would take what she could get.

"Don't lecture me on traffic safety," she replied, poking him lightly on the arm. "Last I checked, you were the one that ran headfirst into a traffic light."

"Why is it you remember all the embarrassing stuff?"

"Well, that's clearly what's worth remembering," she said, casting him a teasing grin.

"Gee, thanks."

They'd made their way safely across the street, but, once on the corner, Adrien reached out and tugged her sleeve lightly, causing her to pause.

"You're not… still mad about this morning, are you?" he asked.

Shoulders dropping some, Marinette's expression softened. "No, Kitty. And I'm sorry I snapped at you. I was just… worried, is all. Sometimes some of the stuff you do… scares me." He was visibly surprised at her admission, Marinette knowing her cheeks had flushed with pink as she stared at the sidewalk.

Because it was one thing when they were getting knocked about and beat up, or when she was tossing him around, or even when she was the one getting tossed. And it was quite another when the danger led to potentially permanent damage. Or worse.

"Mari, I-"

"Yo!" Seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, Nino slid into their conversation, wrapping an arm around Adrien's shoulders as he jostled him. "Sorry I didn't get back to your text till last night. Definitely didn't see it."

"Ah, that's alright." Adrien shrugged, smiling just a bit. "I was pretty busy this weekend anyway. You know, studying… and stuff."

"Hey, Marinette," Nino said a second later, casting her a grin as well. "Since when do you two walk to school together?"

"Yeah, since when?" Alya interjected next, coming up on the group as well. "I thought you were driven to school every day." Her comment was clearly directed at Adrien, who was still weighed down by Nino's arm around his shoulders.

"Uh, well, my dad and I decided not to do that anymore," he explained. "Seems kind of silly, living this close."

"Seriously?" Nino was the only one surprised—as if there should be reason to be. "He's finally giving you some leash? 'Bout time! How long until I'm allowed back on the property?" It was meant to sound like a joke, and both Adrien and Nino laughed, but Marinette couldn't help noticing something hollow in the subject.

She furrowed her eyebrows, but didn't dare question. Not in front of Nino and Alya, anyway. And besides, maybe it wasn't any of her business. Adrien had said he didn't like talking about his father. Would she be being too forward, bringing up the subject again?

Sometimes this whole situation was so confusing. Because they trusted one another with their lives, but not their secrets? It seemed entirely backward.

" _Adrihoney_!" Both Marinette and Alya stiffened, the call of the banshee sending shivers up both their spines. A moment later, Chloe was bursting onto the scene, shoving Nino out of the way as she grabbed Adrien by the arm. With a tug, she yanked him down to her level and laid an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

Adrien was clearly surprised by the whole thing, and tried to pull back, but hadn't acted fast enough. Though Marinette didn't quite know why he wore a look of surprise—Chloe greeted him the same way every morning. It was strange actually, watching Adrien get practically molested by Chloe these days. Like, suddenly, there was this thick, gaping chasm between their real lives and their superhero lives, and some of the facets between the two would never mix. It was impossible for Marinette to imagine Chat Noir putting up with such behavior, yet Adrien was visibly trying to be delicate about prying Chloe away. He was obviously uncomfortable, but wasn't doing anything particularly proactive about the situation.

That aside, Marinette found the scene all the more irritating since the week before. Now Chloe wasn't just hanging all over Adrien, but Chat Noir too. Her partner—her _exclusive_ _companion_. Yet Chloe had the audacity to stand there, attached to him like a leech, and look at Marinette like she was the dirt under her shoe.

It was asinine.

"Uh, hey Chlo," Adrien greeted, wearing that soft, almost fake smile as he tried to shimmy his arm out of her hold. It didn't work. She only clung to him closer, Marinette unable to hold back a sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest. Beside her, Alya looked much the same.

"I'm so glad you're here," Chloe gushed. "But, eh…" Those cruelly piercing blue eyes landed on Marinette and she knew, without a doubt, that she should have walked away as soon as Chloe had shown up. "Did _you_ want something?"

Marniette cocked a skeptical eyebrow, but only shared a look with Alya as response.

Chloe's glare hardened. In fact, it grew far more severe than usual. Marinette would know—she was very familiar with Chloe's glares. She wasn't sure what she'd done those four, long years ago when she and Chloe had happened to be in the same class, but, whatever it was, it'd stuck. Marinette was, by far, the person Chloe despised most above everyone. Not that the feeling wasn't mutual.

"C'mon, Adrien," Chloe said after a moment, actually throwing a scowl in Marinette's direction before she tugged Adrien around. Adrien, who turned to look back at Marinette somewhat helplessly, as well as with some slight confusion. Ultimately, however, he was pulled off, Nino trailing behind as Marinette was left to sulk.

"She really is horrible," Alya said after a moment.

"At least you haven't been dealing with her for years," Marinette muttered, shoulders slumping as she hunkered toward the school.

"Hey, don't let it get you too down," Alya said, slinging an arm around Marinette's shoulders much the same way Nino had with Adrien. "You're the one that was walking to school with him. What's up with that, by the way?"

"We walk the same way," Marinette replied, wondering how it was possible to tell the truth as well as lie at the same time. "Coincidence."

"That's probably what had Chloe all fired up," Alya continued. "She waits for him every morning. She probably saw you two walking together. And seeing as she absolutely despises you for some reason I have yet to figure out…"

"That makes two of us," Marinette agreed. They were headed up the stairs, crowds of students filing in through the front doors. Marinette had long since lost Adrien amongst them all, much to her growing disappointment. Stupid cat—he should have fought Chloe off.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," Alya started, Marinette waving to a few girls from a previous class as they headed in. "Why she seems to hate you so… violently."

"Yeah?" Marinette smiled, quite curious now. "I'd love to hear this theory." As she said as much, she pulled out the pen she'd borrowed from Rose the week before, the two sharing in familiar grins as they passed. Even Juleka waved, which Marinette was grateful for. Since becoming class president and helping with the photo debacle, she felt as though she'd gotten to know Juleka a little better—even if she still didn't quite understand what she was saying some of the time.

"That," Alya said simply. "That's why."

"What?" Marinette asked, honestly not understanding as they reached their lockers.

"That's why she hates you," Alya went on. "Because you're popular."

Marinette actually froze, her hand on her locker handle as she cast Alya a skeptical look. "Me? Popular? You're joking, right?"

"Me? No." Alya shook her head. "You can't honestly tell me you don't know what I'm talking about." But Marinette's silence spoke volumes. "You're, like, the most popular girl in our class." Marinette gaped. "Chloe wants to be adored, but, in reality, you're the one everybody likes."

Marinette slowly pulled her locker open, blushing just a bit. "Yeah, right. You don't know what you're talking about."

"As the new girl who didn't have to suffer through months of social alienation, I can assure you that I do." Alya crossed her arms almost haughtily over her chest. "The only reason it was so easy for me to fit in here is because I became such good friends with you."

"I don't… You're crazy…" Marinette had never thought of herself as popular. Sure, she knew most everyone in their grade, but that was because she'd been in classes with most of them over the years. And she waved and was nice because that was the right thing to do. That didn't make her "popular."

"I'm not." Alya shrugged. "Chloe hates you because she's jealous of you."

Okay, Marinette definitely couldn't believe that.

"I'm not kidding!" Alya said, laughing and shoving Marinette good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Ever notice how, if we stay at school, we never eat lunch alone? Or that whenever we have to do group projects, you're never hunting for more people? Everybody loves you, Marinette. You're, like, the super nice, pretty girl with the awesome parents that live next door to the school. You're _literally_ the girl next door."

"Alya…"

"Already this year you've had two boys crushing on you—Nath and Nino. And I'm sure there are others. Kim once told me he had a crush on you for a whole school year when you two sat next to one another."

"Kim?!" Marinette had never fathomed. She'd known Kim forever—since they'd gone to daycare together in diapers.

"Yeah. And it looks like Adrien might like you now too."

" _What_?!" Marinette didn't mean to be so loud, but it just came out that way. "No he doesn't. We're just friends, I told you."

"Yeah, whatever." Alya waved her off flippantly. "My point is, that's why Chloe hates you. Because nobody else does."

"I'm not that popular…" Marinette said, shutting her locker once she'd retrieved her tablet.

"Uh huh."

"I'm _not_!" she hissed. "I just know a lot of people…"

"That's called being popular, sweetheart," Alya replied, Marinette blushing again as she covered her forehead with her hand. "You hanging out with Adrien will probably do him quite a few favors, actually."

"I- What?"

"Adrien," Alya said, the two of them heading up the stairs to class. "You hanging out with him might help, you know, with the whole 'new kid' syndrome."

"I don't understand," Marinette said, eyebrows scrunching together. "Adrien's really popular." They were sliding into their respective sides of their shared bench, two of the first to have arrived in class. Ivan was the only other—sitting directly behind them. Marinette smiled up at him as she usually did, an expression he shyly returned, and was abruptly aware of what Alya had been saying.

"Adrien? Popular? In _your_ head, maybe!" Alya laughed, waving to Ivan as well. "You can't be serious right now."

"I am!"

They leaned a little closer together, so as not to be overheard. "I mean, everyone knows who Adrien is on the surface," Alya explained. "And he has lots of fans in the school who fawn over him because he's a model or whatever, but he's not _actually_ popular. At least, not like you are."

Marinette didn't believe it.

"Honestly, Marinette. Come on. How have you been making googly eyes at him this whole time and not noticed? Seriously, think about it. Have you ever seen him hanging out with anyone except Nino?" And Chloe, but that didn't count.

Tapping her finger on her chin, Marinette considered the question long and hard. Of course, Adrien was around when they did class related activities—like the movie or the game competition, or school pictures. And he was generally nice to everyone. But, come to think of it, she couldn't recall him ever hanging around with anyone else.

"Wow, girl, you need to open your eyes," Alya continued.

"But he's so nice to everyone," she objected quietly.

"Sure, he is nice, but he's also a celebrity. One that Chloe hangs around constantly. Not exactly the best recipe for making friends."

"Are you telling me that Nino is Adrien's only friend," Marinette asked, tone grave. Sure, she hung out with Alya a majority of the time, but just a few weeks ago they'd gone to the movies with Rose and Juleka, and Meylene came to the bakery sometimes to work on school stuff. And Marinette had been going to Kim and Alix's joint birthday party (because they'd been born on the same day, albeit a year apart) since they were in elementary school. She considered them all friends—almost all her classmates, in fact. Did Adrien really do none of that?

"Well, and you, if that's going well," Alya said, shrugging. "Which, like I said, could be good for him. The only reason I'm friends with so many people is because they were your friends first."

"I can't believe this…" Marinette said, honestly flabbergasted. She'd always thought Adrien was really popular, what with everyone always wanting his autograph and such. But, really, that had worn off, hadn't it? These days, no one wanted such things from him. And Alya was right, he never was with anyone but Nino. And if Nino was with other people, then Adrien…

He was usually off to the side, or doing his own thing. But that was what Marinette had always assumed it was. His _own thing_. Yet, maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe what she'd thought was popularity was just his fanbase, which had deteriorated over the months. But why wouldn't he join in with Nino? Why wouldn't he just get pulled along with the crowd like Alya supposedly had been?

"I…" She turned to her best friend. "Is- Is Adrien _shy_?" The thought popped out before she'd really thought it all the way through.

"Mmm," Alya cocked her head thoughtfully. "I don't know that I'd say shy. I think he's mostly just… awkward."

"Awkward?"

"Yeah. Sure, he's nice and everything, like you said, but beyond pleasantries and stuff like that, I don't think he really knows how to talk to people. But, I mean, he was homeschooled before this, so that _kind of_ makes sense. Awkward and insecure. That's how I'd describe Adrien. After all," she winked, "I've had enough time stuck staring at him with you."

"But- but he doesn't seem awkward or- or insecure."

"Well, not in the typical sense, no." Alya leaned back in her seat. "He's not antisocial or anything like that. It's more like…" She narrowed her eyes critically. "More like he knows how to meet people, but once he does, he doesn't know what to do with them." Didn't know how to retain friends once he'd made them. Which, Marinette suddenly realized, did make sense. He _was_ insecure—he was flirtatious as Chat, but he _had_ assumed she, Marinette, didn't like him, and that he'd been doing something "wrong."

He'd thought he was _getting in her way_.

And he was kind of silly about their "friendship" plans, as he oftentimes referred to such things. Like having the schedule, and wanting to be "super friends." She'd just chalked it up to Chat being Chat, or, rather, Adrien being Adrien. She was used to his antics, so it hadn't registered as strange.

Now she was seeing that it actually kind of was. He wasn't being obnoxious and silly because he liked to bother her (okay, she still kind of thought he enjoyed annoying her), but because he was desperately trying to be her friend. Only, he didn't know how to do that.

" _I've never had any friends. All of this is… pretty new to me._ "

"Oh my god…" she whispered, beyond shocked by the revelation.

"I can't believe you never noticed," Alya muttered. "It doesn't help that Chloe's all over him either. If anything, that's made him more unpopular."

"What do you mean?"

Alya leaned forward, pointing to the front of the classroom where Nino and Adrien had just walked in, Chloe still hanging off Adrien's arm with Sabrina at her other side. "Exhibit A."

Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, Marinette watched the group through her newly unclouded vision. They were chatting up by the board, Nino telling some kind of expressive anecdote as Adrien laughed. Chloe was smiling, as if she were actually appreciative of whatever Nino said. However, as Juleka and Rose walked in, her attention snapped to them.

Her smile immediately turned to a scowl, her hold on Adrien tightened, and the two girls shied away as they filtered by.

Marinette actually slammed her hands on her desk, teeth gritting in surging fury. Because _how dare she_! That was, how dare _Chloe_. If there was anything Adrien needed, it was friends. And yet there Chloe was, some kind of disgusting shield against that. Did Adrien even know that she was actively getting in the way of him forming relationships with his classmates? How many others had she deterred?

It was almost like she was sucking him into her bad reputation—despite the fact that it was pretty clear he was nothing like her. Yet, he affiliated with her, and was a celebrity model with a rich father. Add all that together and no one was going to go to any effort to _really_ get to know him. He was on his own, with a guard dog he didn't need, and no tools at his disposal.

Marinette wanted to explode.

"I know that look," Alya muttered beside her, as what students stood clumped around finally dispersed to their seats.

Marinette knew exactly what look Alya was referring to. She had it trained on Chloe now, lips pursed tight below scorching eyes. And when Chloe finally noticed her glaring and looked up, Marinette's expression hardened even further.

Chloe curled her nose up in response and sat down.

"Hey, are you okay?" It was Adrien's voice that jolted her, Marinette flicking her attention to him as her wrath slipped away. He was turned toward her, arm with bracelet sitting on the back of his bench. He looked concerned.

"Y-yeah," Marinette managed to squeak out. "I'm- I'm fine."

If anything, he appeared only more worried after that, but Nino pulled his attention a second later, going back into whatever story he'd been telling previously. So Marinette took the chance to lean in close to Alya.

"You have to be Adrien's friend too," she whispered, pooching her lips in firm resolve.

Alya laughed. "Sure, alright."

Marinette nodded, before sitting back and pulling out her phone. Their teacher walked in a second later, so she moved the device into her lap and did her best to look inconspicuous. After all, she was acting under a "no phones" rule. Careful to appear as though she were reading her tablet, she texted Adrien.

**Marinette – You want to hang out after school on Friday?**

She heard the buzz in front of her, Adrien looking around quickly before he pulled his own phone from his pocket and adopted a pose much the same as hers.

_Adrien – YES! :D_

Marinette grinned despite herself.

**Marinette – Awesome. I have something I want to give you anyway :)**

_Adrien – Really?! Like a gift? =^.^=_

**Marinette – Kind of. Just something I was working on for practice and I thought you might like it.**

_Adrien – Can I have it today instead? ;b_

**Marinette – No.**

_Adrien – But your house is only, like, two seconds away._

**Marinette – It's not finished yet. Don't ruin the surprise, Kitty.**

_Adrien – I'm not sure how I feel about surprises :/_

**Marinette – Don't worry, I think you'll like it.**

_Adrien – Okay. I trust you, My Lady :3_

_Adrien – OH! We should have a sleepover. I've never done that before._

Pausing in a response, Marinette took a deep breath and tried not to be both uncomfortable with and sympathetic of Adrien's suggestion.

**Marinette – I don't think my parents would be okay with that.**

_Adrien – Why not?_

**Marinette – Because you're a boy.**

_Adrien – Oh, right, duh. I knew that :( Sorry._

She tapped her fingers on the sides of her phone, biting her cheek thoughtfully.

**Marinette – I'll ask them, but I don't think they'll say yes.**

_Adrien – You don't have to. It was a stupid suggestion._

**Marinette – It's okay :) Never hurts to ask.**

"Miss Dupain, Mr. Agreste, I'm pretty sure we have a no phone policy in this classroom," Miss Bustier said, sounding almost too sweet. "Please desist texting one another." A few giggles echoed around the room, Marinette flushing pink as she slipped her phone into her bag. Adrien put his own back in his pocket, pointedly staring down at his desk.

Class continued on peacefully a second later, Marinette trying to focus in as best she could. But, within the moment, she felt it. The heavy weight of someone staring. Flicking her eyes around, they fell immediately to Chloe.

Chloe, who was looking over her shoulder at her, glaring quite obviously.

Marinette stuck out her tongue and, rather immaturely, leaned over her desk and ruffled Adrien's hair. He reacted in silent surprise, reaching up to bat her hand away before righting the damage she'd done. Their teacher was turned away, so she saw none of the exchange, Chloe visibly snarling when Marinette cast her a rather superior smirk.

Alya silently laughed.

Eventually, Chloe turned away, the rest of class continuing on without incident. When lunch finally came around, Alya grabbed Marinette by the arm in a rather harsh attempt to draw her attention.

"I forgot to tell you," she hissed, eyes aglow with excitement. She only looked like that about one subject. "Ladybug and Chat Noir were out last night."

"Oh, really?" Marinette gave Alya her full attention. She always did when it came to Ladybug related subjects. She felt guilty, lying to her best friend and biggest fan, so she was always attentive when she could be.

"Yes!" Alya groaned. "But I missed it sleeping. Just like I missed last week too." She pulled at her wavy, red locks. "And last week was so exciting. People were saying there was another superhero helping Ladybug and Chat Noir. But there's been no sign of her since."

"Uh, I heard she wasn't actually a superhero," Marinette corrected tentatively, only aware out of her peripherals of Adrien and Nino leaving the classroom. "That she was an akuma, just like usual."

"Really?" Alya was visibly disappointed, shoulders dropping. "That sucks. Where did you hear that?"

"Just… from people on the internet who saw it."

"Ugh, I better look into this. The Ladyblog has missed two akuma incidences now. That puts me way behind." She'd already pulled out her phone and set to work. Marinette hoped there really would be witnesses of someone seeing Volpina as an akuma. After all, they had ended up on the Eiffel Tower. "Says here that Adrien was involved…" Alya muttered.

Marinette pursed her lips. "I asked him about it," she lied. "He says he wasn't actually. That it was an illusion created by the akuma."

"Oh…" Alya huffed. "Well, I better interview him anyway." Trying to be subtle, Marinette then pulled out her phone and sent Adrien a warning, as well as relaying to him what info she'd already delivered to Alya. He'd be able to handle it from there.

"Oh! And something else!" Alya grabbed her abruptly by the arm, causing Marinette to jump. "Okay, so, listen to this. After I heard there might be another superhero, I started researching, you know, to see if there was any more info on that sort of thing. I didn't find any on this new hero—which makes sense if she was actually an akuma—but I did come across something else."

"What?" Marinette was always curious about Alya's findings, if only for her own defense.

"I was asking on forums and stuff, to see what others had heard, and I got this message—it was a snotty message, granted—from someone saying something about how Ladybug and Chat Noir weren't the only superheroes there ever were and that I should stop 'worshipping them' or something. Their French wasn't that good, but that's what I gathered they meant. Anyway, so I thought, what if they're right? And I tried looking up other superheroes."

"Did you find anything?" Marinette asked, honestly interested.

"Well… kind of." Alya slumped, once again disappointed. "I managed to find a few sources that mentioned the possibility, but most of them I couldn't read. And they were short, besides. I tried translating them, but not much came of it. I can't read German, Italian, or Russian. Or _Polish_."

"But there was something about other superheroes?" Marinette asked, her heart jumping.

"Yeah, but not in the present. Historically, I think. From what I could figure, these articles were referencing heroes from before? One of them mentioned World War II. But that's all I could really get out of it. I'm trying to see if anyone who follows my blog can translate them more fully, but, even then, I'm not holding my breath."

"Oh…" Marinette pulled at her bottom lip thoughtfully. Other superheroes? Of course, it made sense. Tikki had said there'd been other Ladybugs. But Marinette had never really thought too hard on the subject. Yet, Alya had piqued her interest.

Maybe she should ask Master Fu…

Snapped violently from their ponderings, both Marinette and Alya whipped their heads up when someone slammed their hands down hard on the desk.

Chloe.

" _What_ do you think you're doing?!" she hissed out viciously, attention trained solely on Marinette.

Who put no attempts into hiding her skepticism. "Well, I was thinking about eating lunch."

"Don't get cheeky with me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng." As if saying her full name was somehow insulting. "Why were you texting Adrien?"

Oh, so that's what this was about. Honestly, Marinette wasn't surprised.

"None of your business," she settled for saying.

Chloe growled. "Well, don't do it anymore!"

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'll text whoever I want." A response that only irritated Chloe further. Once upon a time, Marinette would have simply done her best to avoid Chloe. But Alya had taught her to fight back—to take down the evildoers. Being Ladybug had helped her in dealing with confrontation as well, developments that she was sure Chloe didn't appreciate.

"Adrien doesn't need to be bothered by you," Chloe reasoned. "I don't know why you're suddenly hanging all over him, but it needs to stop. It's bad enough that you follow him around in the mornings—you don't need to be stalking him on his phone too."

Marinette was moderately surprised by her words, but supposed they made sense. She and Adrien did jog by Master Fu's every morning now, which was kitty-corner to Chloe's hotel. They'd only worked out together twice so far, yet, somehow, Marinette wasn't shocked that Chloe had seen them.

"For your information, I don't 'follow' him," Marinette corrected. "We work out in the mornings together by _choice_. He comes by my house to get me." She knew that last statement would really set Chloe off. "And I'm sure that, if he really felt bothered by my texts, he'd stop replying." The last seemed obvious, but saying it out loud was relatively satisfying, and caused Chloe to growl in further fury.

Marinette wasn't bothered by it, however. Rather, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for any kind of rebuke Chloe might be able to muster. When all that came forth was strangled snarling, Marinette knew she'd come out with the upper hand.

Slamming her fists once again on the desk, Chloe whipped around, almost smacking Sabrina as she did, and stomped down the stairs. Huffing and puffing, she marched from the room, Marinette grinning just a bit to herself before she turned to Alya.

Alya, who didn't look nearly as impressed as usual.

"What?" They were the only ones left in the classroom by that point.

"Since when do you and Adrien workout together?"

Oh, right. _That_.

"Uh, j-just since Thursday…"

"You hate exercise."

"Well… he asked me to…" She fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

Alya shook her head. "Oh, Marinette. You're hopeless."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," Alya replied, picking up her bag and standing as she did. "C'mon, let's go to lunch. You can tell me all about it."

"There's nothing to tell…" Marinette pouted.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

Marinette sighed.


	5. Part One - A Real Gift

"Are you finished?" Sabine asked, smiling as she gestured to her daughter's plate.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Marinette smiled apologetically, setting her phone on the counter as her mother retrieved her plate. She tapped her fingers on the countertop guiltily, knowing her parents preferred she not text in the middle of dinner. But as she did it so rarely, no comment had been made.

Her father was out manning the bakery, as it was his night to do so, which left Marinette with her mother for the evening. A normal system, one or the other parent a night with the exception of Sundays, when they were all together. Marinette had been kind of waiting for a night alone with her mother, in order to bring up Adrien's… request. Her mother tended to be more understanding of such things—quite literally. Her father, while kind and gentle, tended to question everything and jump to the wrong ideas, if only in attempts to do what was best.

"So, mom…" Marinette trailed her finger nervously over the counter, her mother nodding acknowledgment from the kitchen sink, where she was washing their dishes. "Would it be okay if- if I had a friend over on Friday?" Best to start things off slow, after all.

"Of course. Alya, like usual?" Yet, her mother's tone was knowing. Because if it was Alya, she wouldn't be so hesitant in asking. Most of the time, she had Alya over without even mentioning it first.

"W-Well, no…" Fiddling her fingers together, she stared down at the back of her phone as a distraction. "I was actually wondering if I could have, uh, A-Adrien over. On Friday." For reasons she chose not to focus on, her cheeks flushed red.

Sabine's washing came to an obvious stop—Marinette didn't have to look up to know. "Why would he be coming over?" her mother asked strategically.

"J-Just to hang out," Marinette replied quickly. "We're just friends. I promise."

"Well, I don't see why not." Her mother was shrugging when Marinette finally looked up again. "All of your friends are welcome here, Marinette. You know that." Which she did, of course. But she hadn't gotten to the hard part of the conversation yet.

"Yeah, I-I know…" She pooched her lips and put her attention back on the counter. The silence seemed to imply more than she'd wanted, however, because her mother was once again coming to a stop to stare at her.

"…What is it?"

Marinette took a huffing breath. "It's just, uh, well, would it- would it be okay if- if he…" How did she even properly ask this? "That is, um, can he… can he stay the… night?" She cringed as soon as the question was out of her mouth.

And rightfully so. Her mother's eyebrows shot up almost immediately, before she removed her hands from the sink and dried them. Coming closer, she leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest—as though waiting for further explanation.

"I know it-it's weird, because he's a boy, but if it was Alya, you- you wouldn't care."

"Alya is also your best friend," Sabine countered. "Not the boy you've clearly had a crush on for months." Because, as her parents had so delicately mentioned when Adrien had been over to practice for the Mecha tournament, she talked about him all the time.

Marinette swallowed, deciding it was pointless to try and quell her blush. "I know. But we're not like that. I just want to be his friend. And I'm kind of one of the only friends he has."

This seemed to draw her mother's interest, those thin eyebrows coming together just a bit.

"See, it-it's like this." Marinette turned to face Sabine a bit more directly, placing her hands on the counter as she did. "Adrien was homeschooled until this semester and he's not very good at making friends. I'm his friend and this other boy, Nino, too. And I'm making Alya be his friend. But, anyway, he doesn't have very many. And I don't think he's ever done stuff like sleepovers or parties before. And I- He's- I just think that's really sad…"

Sabine sighed. "Oh, Marinette." She'd reached out and laid a hand on her daughter's own. "You really are too good sometimes."

Marinette met her mother's gaze, searching it for an answer. "I- I'm not inviting him over because I like him. That has nothing to do with it. We'll even stay downstairs, if you want, and sleep in the living room. Or he can sleep in there and I can sleep in my room. Or your room. Or-"

"Marinette." Sabine squeezed her hand. "I'll have to talk to your father.

"Oh, right…" Marinette glanced down at the counter again.

"But," Sabine said that word which could be both disappointing or magical, depending on the context, "I think it'll probably be alright."

"R-really?!"

"I think so. As long as you both stay in the living room after we've gone to bed—we'll leave the door open—then I don't see why it'd be a problem. And besides," she reached up and cupped Marinette's cheek with her hand, "you were very honest about the situation. That counts for a lot more than you realize."

Still flushed with red, Marinette grinned.

"And Adrien is a very nice boy," she continued, retreating back to the sink. "I don't think there's any reason to assume he'd be up to no good. Despite what your father will say."

"Yeah, he's pretty great…"

Sabine cast her a warning look, when the expression on her face was beginning to get too dreamy. Clearing her throat, Marinette picked up her phone again, which had been buzzing continually during their discussion. All the messages were from Alya. She was ranting and raving about the Ladyblog, which was pretty normal. Something about getting nowhere with the articles she'd found and how no one had actually _seen_ the akuma attack the night before.

"Is that him, texting you?" Sabine asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, just Alya," Marinette replied, having finally composed herself some following their discussion. "She's just upset about the Ladyblog. I guess Ladybug and Chat Noir were out last night, but everyone missed the entire thing. No pictures or anything."

"Ah. She really is quite obsessed with those two, isn't she?"

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," Marinette said, laughing shortly as she typed back some general condolences to Alya's problems. "She's always been a fan of superheroes though, so I guess it must be really cool for her to have some in real life." Not just in comic books and movies.

"Yes, well, even I can admit that Ladybug and Chat Noir are impressive."

Marinette thrummed with internal pleasure at her mother's compliment. "It's too bad though, that superheroes are only around when there's bad guys. The two kind of come hand in hand, don't they?" After all, she couldn't sound like _she_ was too interested in Ladybug and Chat Noir. She had an identity to keep.

"I suppose that makes sense," Sabine said, chuckling to herself. "If there weren't bad guys, then there'd be no need for superheroes in the first place."

"Mmm, well, she can follow them around if she wants. I'll stay out of it, thanks. Not exactly my cup of tea."

"No interest in superheroes?"

"Not like Alya," Marinette made clear. "I mean, she's even obsessed with superheroes that _aren't_ Ladybug and Chat Noir. She was disappointed when one of the latest akumas wasn't the new superhero some people thought she was. And she's even started researching to see if there were superheroes before. Maybe there's a superhero major in university she can study."

Sabine chuckled again. "Probably not. But she could always go for something with journalism and history. Tie the two together."

"History?" Marinette glanced up at her mother then.

"Sure." Sabine shrugged, scrubbing at a plate as she did. "She's not wrong about there being superheroes before Paris' Chat Noir and Ladybug."

"Wait, she's not?" Marinette was full focus now. "How do you know that?"

Sabine side-eyed her. "You'd be surprised at the things I know." The comment held that superior tone parents were known for, which caused Marinette to deflate just a bit. "I studied history once, you know. Before I met your father."

"You did?"

"Certainly. And there have been superheroes before, but they haven't always been as visible as Ladybug and Chat Noir." She rinsed the newly clean dishes, looking thoughtful all the while.

"Alya said she'd read something about that too," Marinette replied, tapping her chin. "She's been having trouble, though, because all the articles she's found have been printed in other languages. But she said something about World War II, I think?" After all, if her mother knew anything that might lead anywhere, _Marinette_ wanted to know. Knowledge could come from the most unlikely places.

"Hmm, that does sound familiar." Sabine pooched her lips in much the same manner Marinette oftentimes did. "I do remember coming across something from that era, when I was studying untold war stories."

"Really?" Marinette's eyes widened, heart skipping. "What did you find?" She hadn't meant to sound so intent, and so held up her phone a second later. "Alya would love to know."

"There wasn't much," Sabine warned. "But I do remember reading about two midnight warriors that—what was the phrasing—'banished the terror of the night with strength beyond mortality.' Yes, I remember finding it very curious. I'd had the text translated from Polish into Chinese, and I recall thinking it quite odd."

Quite superhero like. "Do you remember anything else?" Marinette dared to ask.

"Well…" Sabine tapped her finger on the plate she'd just pulled up to dry. "There really wasn't a whole lot. As if their activities had been, perhaps, secret. But…" She narrowed her eyes, as though searching for any slip of information she could recall. "I do remember one text referring to them by a name. What was it…? Po-Podwójne Ogony? That sounds about right. I believe it translated to Double Tails. Or Twin Tails. Something like that."

"Twin Tails…" Marinette muttered. "And that was a Polish text?"

"Yes. Podwójne Ogony is Polish."

"Huh…" Marinette narrowed her eyes, trying to commit the information to memory. Before eventually realizing she should probably deliver it to Alya. With assistance from her mother on spelling, she sent the nugget of knowledge on to her best friend, who began singing her praises, as well as thanking Sabine with words as generous as "saint" and "savior."

Marinette was just happy the information was in capable hands. Alya'd probably be able to make more of it than she could.

In fact, she should probably tell Adrien too. He'd like to know. And so, while her mother bustled around putting the dishes away, Marinette typed out all she'd learned to Adrien, suggesting that, perhaps, they ought to ask Master Fu about it as well.

_Adrien – Huh. Weird. I wonder if my father's book would have anything on it? I don't remember seeing any heroes in there that would remind me of something called Twin Tails._

**Marinette – Yeah, I don't remember seeing anything like that either.**

_Adrien – Maybe Master Fu will know._

**Marinette – If it was during WWII though, it might not be superheroes at all.**

Could have just been some kind of cloak-and-dagger operatives. Top secret mission kind of stuff. She wasn't exactly a history buff, but anyone who knew anything about that era could gather that there was probably a lot that went down under the radar.

_Adrien – True. But never hurts to ask._

His word choice reminded Marinette of their texting earlier, during class, and the fact that she had good news to give him.

**Marinette – I asked my mom about Friday, btw. About you sleeping over. She said it'd be okay so long as we stayed in the living room :)**

_Adrien – Really?! Cool! Your parents are awesome, do you know that?_

**Marinette – So I've heard ;b**

_Adrien – No, seriously. You have no idea._

**Marinette – What about your dad? Is he going to be okay with it?**

_Adrien – It'll be fine. So what are we gonna do?_

**Marinette – I dunno, normal stuff. Eat junk food and watch movies.**

_Adrien – Gossip._

**Marinette – Braid each other's hair.**

_Adrien – Paint our nails._

**Marinette – Pillow fights.**

_Adrien – Makeovers._

**Marinette – Bet that's all pretty typical for you, Mr. Model.**

_Adrien – Haha, you're hilarious._

Grinning, Marinette kept typing, oblivious to any knowing looks her mother might have been directing her way.

**oOo**

"Adrikins!" Stumbling, Adrien caught himself just in time, adjusting his balance to make up for Chloe's extra weight. She'd come up on his left, latching onto his arm in her typical fashion. Nino was standing to his right, eyebrows skeptical.

"Chlo," Adrien greeted, offering her only a small smile. "What are you doing here?" It was an hour after school had ended on a Friday. Adrien had fencing and Nino had had detention (a normal occurrence), but normally Chloe wouldn't have had any reason to stick around. If anything, she was usually more than happy to be gone from school as soon as possible.

"I wanted to see you," she said, lips pouting a bit as she looked up at him. They'd come to a stop at the top of the steps, only a few students milling about this late. Adrien was, quite honestly, anxious to get going. He was headed home and then over to Mari's. He didn't want to waste time otherwise.

"I'm kind of busy, Chlo," Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. He didn't bother mentioning why he was busy. It was full and common knowledge that Chloe despised Mari. He wasn't sure why (he wasn't sure why Chloe was so nasty sometimes in general), but he had no interest in creating conflict where there didn't have to be.

"But we never hang out," she continued to push. "We used to all the time." Years before, when Adrien's mother had been around. His mom and Chloe's mom had always been pretty good friends, so he'd known Chloe since they'd been in diapers together. But after his mother had disappeared, that sort of thing had come to a stop. Still, Chloe was the first friend he'd ever had and he did feel kind of bad that they'd grown apart.

But not bad enough to skip going to Mari's.

"Maybe we can later this week or something," he offered, trying to pull his arm free of her and failing. "I really have to go now though." He looked to Nino for support, but his best friend could only shrug. Some help he was.

"Oh, alright." Chloe gave in, though her sulking made it quite clear she wasn't happy about it. "But I just have one," she tapped him on the chest, "single," then his nose, "question for you." Eyes crossed, Adrien stared at her finger, which was now trailing down across his shirt. "Why do you run with Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the mornings?"

The question took Adrien by surprise, but he supposed it made sense that Chloe might have seen the two of them. They'd worked out four mornings in a row now, that made a total of six times they'd run by her hotel (he most definitely was not counting). Still, he didn't quite understand why she'd want to know.

"Because we're friends?" he replied. He didn't know how to answer her question with anything more than the obvious.

"Really." No, Chloe did not sound as though she approved. Fortunately, he'd kind of expected that. "Since when?" She'd finally dropped her hold on him, arms crossing over her chest. Why she cared about such things, Adrien couldn't fathom. Granted, he knew Chloe didn't like Mari, but it wasn't like he was asking _her_ to be friends with her.

"Since… awhile…" he eventually settled on saying, supposing his time as Chat Noir with Ladybug counted as time spent being Mari's friend, even if they hadn't been aware of it.

"You don't have to be friends with her," Chloe pointed out. "I mean, I get she's a klutz and clearly in need of some fashion advice, but you don't have to take pity on her."

Adrien's jaw tightened. "I'm not friends with her because I feel bad for her." If anything, it was probably the other way around. Because, really, he didn't deserve a friend as amazing as Mari. "And she dresses just fine…"

"Well, I just don't understand I guess," Chloe said, shrugging in a rather exaggerated manner. "If you're really that desperate for a workout friend, I could do it. I doubt Marinette is good for any kind of conversation and she's clearly not in as good a shape as you. She probably can't even keep up."

"She keeps up just fine," Adrien rebuked, beginning to grow irritated. Really, he had more patience for Chloe than she deserved, but harping on Mari was probably one of the fastest ways to bother him.

"Well, I could still join you, if you really want company that badly."

"Look, Chlo, that's nice, but it's kind of a me and Mari thing only." He was very specific in his wording. The last thing he wanted was Chloe ambushing them as they ran by—because that seemed like something she'd do. "We have a schedule we follow and everything." Besides, it was _Chloe_ that wouldn't be able to keep up. Chat Noir and Ladybug, though they were lax about it, still worked out harder than most.

"I could follow any schedule just fine," she said haughtily.

Adrien sighed. "It's made specifically for Mari and I," he explained. "I appreciate the thought, but it's just the two of us doing it. You and I can hang out later this week, okay?" She looked like she wanted to say more, but he continued before she could. "I really have to go. I'll see you on Monday." With that, he waved and turned away, thankful when it was only Nino that went with him. Once at the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the street, he sighed.

"Dude, she is so obsessed with you," Nino commented as they crossed the street, Adrien's eyes going only quickly to the bakery before they made a quick right down the street toward his own house. "You sure she's not into you?"

"We're not like that," Adrien made quite clear. Even if Chloe did like him, he refused to entertain the concept. He didn't feel that way about her—never had. "She's just an old friend."

"If you say so," Nino replied, shrugging. "She sure is jealous of Marinette though. Not really surprising, seeing as they hate each other. It's like they're fighting over you or something."

"Mari's not," Adrien said firmly. Mari didn't have to fight over him—she had him already. If she kept wanting him, anyway.

"Since when are you and her so chummy anyway? You dating?"

"Mari and I?" Adrien practically scoffed. "No, we're just friends." Dating would be nice, but he wasn't ready to push that subject yet. Sometimes he wondered if Mari wasn't just putting up with him because she had to. She was nice to everyone, after all. Not like she'd say anything if she really did find him off-putting. Especially with them being partners.

"Seriously? Why don't you ask her out?"

"Because we're _just friends_ ," Adrien repeated. "Besides, who're you to lecture me on my love life? What's going on with you and Alya? Oh, that's right, nothing." Nino glared at him, but Adrien simply shrugged in response. It was the truth, after all.

"Things with Alya are… complicated." Nino was staring at the sidewalk, appearing rather downed all of a sudden, which, of course, sent Adrien's sympathies out to him.

"Why don't you just ask her out again?" Adrien suggested. "Maybe she's just waiting for you to make another move."

"She barely talks to me, bro. It was, like, we shared this one awesome week where everything was really great and then it all just chilled. I don't get it. I think she takes back liking me or something."

"You can't know that unless you ask her."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Nino reasoned. "You've seen Alya. Girl is scary intimidating. And she's so focused on the Ladyblog and everything. She probably decided I wasn't worth her time." And while Adrien didn't think that, he also didn't feel like he was in any position to critique. Had he not been thinking the exact same thing about the girl he was head over heels for only moments prior? He'd settle for just friendship with Mari, to be honest. Whatever he could get.

"Girls, man," Adrien muttered.

"For real."

They were at the end of the shops, crossing the street again with the Agreste mansion spiking up behind its walls before them. Nino stayed with him until they'd reached the front gate, where they split ways. It'd become a new routine whenever they got out at the same time, since Nino walked in the same direction to get home.

Waving shortly, Adrien headed in, the house quiet as he entered. But that was normal. Making his way to his bedroom, he set down his bag and watched for only a moment as Plagg zipped around the room, before Adrien went to his wardrobe in the bathroom.

"Do you have any camembert?" Plagg was asking a few seconds later, hovering at Adrien's shoulder as he started rummaging around for his duffel bag.

"Mari said she got you some. Just give me a minute to pack and we'll head over there." Plagg grumbled at having to be patient, but didn't continue pestering. Instead, he crawled under the clothes Adrien had tossed to the floor, playing in the wrinkles while Adrien packed. Once he'd shoved his clothes into his duffel, he grabbed further necessities from the counter and shoved them in too. Lastly, he grabbed the DVDs he'd pulled out of his collection the night before and called Plagg.

Zipping it all up, he headed right back out the way he'd come. Only he didn't go directly to the front door. Instead, he detoured to his father's study.

Standing outside the door, he pushed back on the anxious nerves that sparked inside him. He hadn't seen or spoken to his father in almost a week—since their last argument. Which left him uncertain of how to act. But, though he'd expressed wanting freedom, he still had to partake in some formalities. He thought.

Breath shaky, he gripped at his duffel with one hand and raised the other to knock. He was only plagued by hesitance for one moment longer, before the echo of his fist on wood made it quite too late to turn back.

"Enter," his father announced, probably already knowing it was him. Nathalie had the day off and his gorilla bodyguard hadn't been around. Which basically left only him as the single possible person to be interrupting his father's work.

Pushing his way inside, he fiddled with the strap on his bag as he walked to the center of the room. Gabriel was behind his computer, as usual, and didn't look up despite knowing Adrien was there. It still wasn't normal, however. Rather, when Gabriel's silence had previously been the result of his no-time-to-waste attitude, this was different. It was stiff, and thick, between them.

"What do you need, Adrien?" And Gabriel almost never addressed the issue straight off.

Adrien took a deep breath. "I just wanted to let you know I'm sleeping over at a friend's house tonight." Though he was staring at the floor, he knew his father had finally looked his way. He could feel it—that heavy stare setting every hair on his body on end.

"I see," Gabriel eventually said. "Would you mind telling me where?"

"Just down the block," Adrien replied. "Not that far."

"…Could you be a bit more precise?"

Adrien drummed his fingers on his bag strap. "The Dupain-Cheng bakery."

Gabriel shifted. "I see. Isn't the Dupain-Cheng child a girl?"

Adrien pushed back on his defensive irritation. "Yes. Her parents are letting us sleep in the living room." Not that he felt it was any of his father's business.

"Ah…" Gabriel took a slight breath. "Fine."

"I'll be back sometime tomorrow," Adrien finalized, unable to stop himself feeling somewhat injured by the exchange. Like he'd just poked a wound still fresh and had to then suffer the throbbing consequences afterward.

Somewhat more hunched within himself than he had been when he'd entered, he left, wanting more than anything to just be out of the house. He didn't realize he was jogging—running—until he was out the door and headed around into the street. Legs pumping, he didn't let up until he was skirting around to the front of the bakery, a sort of relief he hadn't expected expelling from his lungs and leaving a smile on his face as he passed the windows.

The bell rang as he entered, but he was hardly paid any mind. There were plenty of customers for the afternoon rush to distract Tom, who was working at the register. He didn't see Sabine anywhere.

Abruptly uncomfortable—probably because he'd never done anything like sleeping over at a friend's house before—Adrien approached the front of the store. Tom was checking out a line of customers, distracted, and so didn't notice Adrien loitering around the edges of the shelves. It wasn't until Adrien finally found the guts to slip up the side of the line entirely that Tom's eyes finally landed on him.

Trying to appear as, well, small and childish as possible, Adrien awkwardly waved, uncertain whether he could just go in the back or not.

Tom eyed him for a moment, lips pursing, before he nodded to the door against the back wall. Silently thanking him, and unsure what to make of the stiff welcome he'd received, Adrien skirted by the counter and out of the shop as fast as he could.

The silence of the small stairwell beyond was welcomed, Adrien taking a deep breath as he pulled himself up by the railing and made his way to the door above. It was cracked open—which seemed far more welcoming than the busy shop below—and Adrien allowed himself to relax just a bit.

Knocking, he poked his head in shortly after. Sabine was already coming over to greet him, pulling the door open with a kind smile.

"Hello, honey," she said, holding him gently by the arm as she gestured him in. "Marinette's upstairs. Just leave your shoes here," she pointed to the rug beside the door, "and then you can go up."

"Uh, sure." He managed a smile of his own. "Thanks Mrs. Che- uh, Sabine."

"Of course!" She patted his arm. "Just make sure you leave the door open behind you." He nodded, supposing the direct acknowledgement of the fact that he was a boy and was not, therefore, welcome to be alone with Mari was just something he'd have to get used to. Really, though, the whole thing was ironic. He was alone with Mari, Ladybug, all the time.

Sabine had turned away, going back to whatever she'd been doing previously, and Adrien was thankful for the sense of normalcy. As if his presence there was something typical and expected.

Duffel still slung over his shoulder, he headed quietly up the stairs, Mari's door already open as he came up through the floor.

She was sitting at her desk, writing something, and didn't realize he was there until he dropped his bag.

"Oh, hey!" she said, smiling as she turned to him. Her blue eyes crinkled just a bit and the open expression alleviated what remained of Adrien's nerves. He grinned back. "Mom just sent you up here?"

"Yeah. Said it was fine so long as the door was open."

"Oh, right." Mari rolled her eyes.

Adrien had nearly forgotten about Plagg until he saw the container of camembert sitting on the corner of Mari's desk. Crouching down beside his duffel, he unzipped the corner just enough for Plagg to come flitting out. A black smudge in the air, he went immediately to the camembert, threw away the top of the cardboard container, and dumped the contents all over Mari's desk.

"Ugh, Plagg, really?" Adrien said, frowning as he came to stand at the corner of the desk. Mari was laughing however, reaching out to pat the kwami between the ears. And like the good cat he most definitely was _not_ , Plagg purred into her touch while chewing actively on a chunk of cheese.

"So cute…" Mari muttered.

"Don't say things like that," Adrien warned. "It'll just go to his head."

"But it's true," Mari cooed, using one nail to scratch lightly behind one of Plagg's ears. Cheese in hand, he fell to his back and closed his big green eyes, far too content.

"Adrien's right," Tikki said, buzzing around them a second later. "He's a glutton." She was nuzzling up against Adrien's cheek in welcome a moment later, Adrien grinning before he held out his hands to catch her. She settled into his palms, looking up at him with expectant, purple-blue eyes. And so Adrien petted her gently against the top of her head, which she clearly enjoyed.

"Just because I'm passionate about something, doesn't make me a glutton," Plagg corrected, still purring under Mari's careful fingers.

"I'm pretty sure being passionate about eating is the definition of a glutton," Adrien replied dryly.

"Well, Marinette thinks I'm cute," Plagg retorted, as if that was a viable defense.

"How come you think he's cute," Adrien started, looking directly at Mari, "but you never say that about Chat Noir?" He was teasing. Kind of.

"Because Chat Noir is obnoxious," she replied, winking up at him. Adrien huffed, setting Tikki carefully down on the desk beside Plagg. The red kwami frowned, waving a little paw in front of her nose when Plagg offered her a chunk of cheese.

"I'm charming," Adrien corrected, placing a hand on his chest.

"If that's what they're calling it these days," she said simply, Adrien pursing his lips.

"I thought you had a gift for me," he said then, supposing he might as well remind her that she wasn't always picking on him. In case she'd forgotten.

"Oh, yeah." She turned a bit in her chair, so she was facing him directly, and tapped her pointer fingers together. "Okay, so, it's like this." Adrien crossed his arms over his chest and listened intently. "A while ago, Alya was telling me how she wanted a Ladybug costume, but that she didn't like any at the stores because they were uncomfortable and cheap."

Adrien had no idea how any of this could be relevant, but he listened with curious brows anyway.

"So I thought, well, I'll create a pattern and make her one for her birthday. But I've never made anything like that before," she was talking fast, gesturing as though that would somehow articulate her point better. "So I thought I should practice first. It takes a lot of fabric to make something like that though, so I figured I should still make my first try, like, maybe good for something.

"So then I got to thinking, who would appreciate a Ladybug costume? Of course, Chat Noir. He'd think it was funny." Adrien was smiling just a bit now. "So I started making my first one with him in mind. And then I found out he was you and I was still working on it, except now I could get your exact measurements off your modeling profile and, well, whatever."

"Wait," Adrien finally cut in, Marinette staring up at him with her lips pulled to one side, eyes big. "Are you telling me you made me a Ladybug costume?"

"Uh, kind of." She stood then, blushing just a bit as she went to a pile of fabric on the other side of her workstation. Soon, she was pulling a red article from beneath the stack, black spots apparent as she turned to him. Holding it up, she let it unfold, the legs pooling on the floor—because the outfit was taller than she was.

Adrien's eyes got big.

"It's not actually a costume because Alya said she wanted something comfortable. So I thought… this would work better…"

"That's a Ladybug onesie," Adrien said, words breathy as he pointed at it. It didn't have feet, but elastic fabric around the ankles and wrists. A black zipper went halfway down the front and a matching black hood hung off the back. "You made a Ladybug onesie."

"Uh, yeah, I guess…" Mari replied, shrugging as she lowered the article and looked down the front.

"You made me a Ladybug onesie."

"Well, I tried," she said, flushing a bit more. "Some of the seams are uneven. And I couldn't get all the spots to match up the way I wanted, so a few seem a little off. And the fabric is a bit wrinkly on the right hip where I got… a little frustrated. But, I mean, it was just practice for Alya. You don't have to take it if you don't wa-"

"I want it!" He stepped forward, grabbing it under the legs as he surveyed her work. It was soft, fleece-like material, how she'd managed to find something in red with black spots a mystery to him. Despite Ladybug being as popular as she was, it'd still have required considerable searching. Even with any of the imperfections she'd listed, Adrien felt his chest swelling with emotion.

"It's probably a little big for you," she muttered shyly. "I made it long because I figured, well, you're probably still growing." Teenage boys did that.

"Thank you, Mari," he murmured, gripping the fabric a bit tighter as he looked up at her. "This is amazing."

She smiled just a bit. "Really? I thought it was kind of dumb for anyone but Alya."

"It's not dumb," he said quietly. "It's perfect."

"Well, it's really not," she claimed. "I actually considered redoing the whole thing."

"No," he said quickly. "I love it, Mari."

She hid her chin and mouth behind the hood as she held it up. Which was when Adrien realized he was probably making her uncomfortable. She didn't need to know that he hadn't received a gift this extravagant since his mother was around, or that the sight of it made him want to curl up with it and cry like a baby. That wasn't a weight he needed to put on her shoulders.

So, instead, he forced a wide smile onto his face and leaned suggestively closer. "I've always wanted to be Ladybug." He waggled his eyebrows.

Mari snorted.

"See, this is perfect," he continued, gathering the onesie to his chest as she let it go. "Now we can _both_ be Ladybug."

"You're ridiculous," she claimed, shoving him by the shoulder and causing him to stumble back a step. He laughed, attention once again falling to the article in his hands as he fingered the soft fabric. It was black fleece inside, which meant it'd probably be like being inside a cloud.

"I'm gonna put it on right now," he decided.

"Right now?"

"Yup. I'm gonna wear it all night."

"In front of my parents?"

"Sure am."

"Oh my god…"

"And I have the perfect shirt to go with it." Going back to his duffel, he set the onesie carefully on the couch nearby before he unzipped it fully and started rummaging around. A second later, he pulled out a pink t-shirt and held it up for her to inspect.

She was not amused. "You wear that to bed, don't you?"

"Of course," he said, no shame as he peered down at the "I *heart* LADYBUG" print on the front of the offensive article. "It's my favorite shirt."

"Alya has one of those too," she commented.

"Alya has excellent taste. Now where can I change?"

"You're seriously going to wear it?" she asked, huffing as she did.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I said."

"I never should have given it to you."

"Is that a bathroom over there?" he asked, gesturing to a door off to the side. "I'll be right back. Just you wait. It's gonna be amazing. I'll make a better Ladybug than you." Actually he wouldn't—because such a feat was impossible—but that didn't mean he couldn't tease just to bother her.

"I'm waiting in bated breath," she said as he headed in, duffel and onesie in hand. Closing the door, he looked only once around the small, pink bathroom before he started going through his bag again. He hadn't intended to get into pajamas this early, but with a temptation such as had been given to him, he couldn't resist. Yanking out his green lounge pants, he quickly shucked off his jeans before pulling them on, his shirts getting replaced by the pink one shortly after.

Careful because it was so, so precious, he then unzipped the onesie and began slipping it on. She was right, it was too long, but the elastic kept it from dragging, the fabric instead clumping around his ankles. It didn't matter though, because he was too busy being astounded, admiring it in her mirror, to care. Zipping it up all the way, he then flipped the hood up over his head.

He was smiling like a dope, but he didn't care. Because Ladybug had made him the most wonderful gift he'd ever gotten and it fit and it had _her_ written all over it. Into it—she was in every stitch. Nothing could have pulled him from his high in that moment.

Looking at his reflection only a moment longer, he then glided on his socks to the door, yanked it open, and jumped out. Hands outstretched in exaggerated presentation, he grinned for just a moment before his lips fell into a gape.

Across the room, Mari giggled.

She was pulling at the sides of her own black hood, pointed cat ears sitting atop her head. The rest of her was black—all the way down to her shins, where the fabric bunched above gray elastic bands.

He could see a tail hanging down between her legs, and a small, gold bell attached to the zipper below her throat.

Once again, Adrien was reminded of why he loved this girl.

"Seriously?!" he asked. "Did you make that one too?"

"Of course," she replied, smiling so wide the petite corners of her nose curled just a bit. And then, if only to make herself more endearing than she already was, she winked. "Who's Ladybug without Chat Noir?"

He was on her before he even knew what he was doing. Arms wrapping around her back, he pulled her close, hardly hearing as she squeaked in surprise. Holding her tight, he laid his chin on her head, smiling despite how he closed his eyes and just relished in the feeling of having her close—the pleasure in knowing this incredible girl who went to efforts far, far beyond what she had to or what he deserved.

It took a moment, but her arms eventually pulled up under his own, tightening around him as she leaned her head against his chest. She'd giggled again, the sound sending light vibrations all through him, and Adrien gripped her tighter, the warmth that spread from his chest almost liberating.

"Adrien, Adrien, look at this!" Plagg said, interrupting the moment as he floated up in front of Adrien's nose. "Look what Marinette made me!" He was wearing a tiny red cloak made of the same fleece as Adrien's own onesie, only room for one black spot on the back. Plagg was clearly excited, his normally thin pupils blown huge. "It's so _soft_!"

Floating nearby, Tikki tittered, her own cloak black with a tiny gold bell to hold it together.

Still grinning as the two kwami then started zipping around in the air above them, Adrien pulled back, his hands on Mari's shoulders as he peered down at her. She was looking off to the side, cheeks flushed as her hands slipped from his person to fiddle together in front of her.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he asked, which only made her blush harder.

"The cloaks weren't that difficult to make," she muttered, shrugging. "And I had extra fabric, so…"

"That's not what I meant." His words hung between them, Mari apparently unable to come up with a response as she bit her bottom lip. Adrien didn't need one though—the fact that she simply heard how incredible he thought she was more than made up for her embarrassed disposition.

He had half a mind to hug her again, but before he could, she finally gathered herself together. Reaching up, she poked him on the nose.

"Silly kitty," she said quietly, before spinning out of his hold. He watched her, flitting about as though she really were some kind of ladybug. She eventually retrieved two remotes from the far side of her workstation, holding one out for him a second later.

"Wanna play Mecha Strike till dinner?"

He couldn't wipe the smile off his face, despite the subject change. "I would love to, My Lady." He bowed just a bit.

"Prepare to get beat," she said, pulling up a second chair before plopping down in her rolling one. Soon he was seated as well, the game loading on her monitor before they started playing. They went on like that for a little over an hour, before Sabine called them down to get dinner. They were allowed to eat in Marinette's room, so as to keep playing, and ultimately Adrien tried as valiantly as he could, but only managed to beat Mari once. And that was because she'd been eating at the same time. At around eight-thirty, Sabine called up to them again.

"You two need to come down here now," she said simply, with no further explanation.

"They'll be going to bed soon even though it's early," Mari explained as she shut down the game. "They have to be up at four every morning to start work."

"That early?" Adrien asked, gathering their dishes as she put the remotes away. "My father's usually up that early too, but I think that's just because he doesn't sleep."

"Creative people sometimes work odd hours," Mari said with a shrug, heading down the stairs ahead of him. Once in the kitchen, he handed their dishes to Sabine, who chuckled for the second time at the state of their attire. But Adrien wasn't ashamed—nothing wrong with being an avid Ladybug fan.

"Is dad coming up soon?" Mari asked, her hood having fallen back to reveal her trademark pigtails.

"Soon. He's just closing up."

"Is it okay if we hijack the television?"

"Sure. Your father and I are going to head to bed once he gets in anyway."

Nodding, Mari then skipped over to a closet along the side wall of the living room, Adrien watching her as he pulled up the legs and arms of his onesie. It was hot, wearing it, but he refused to take it off.

Soon she was yanking out pillows and blankets, Adrien coming up to help as she stacked them in his arms. Once they had two comforters and a pillow each, she led the way to the sectional, almost tripping over her dragging blanket as she reached the couch. Setting her bedding on the end, she then watched as he did the same before she vaulted easily over the back of the couch and started looking through the movies on the bookshelf leaning against the wall. Adrien was at her side soon enough, looking through the titles and wondering if he should mention the ones he'd brought.

"Mmm, these are most of the newer ones," Mari mentioned, pointing to a shelf about three up. Adrien had moved on to the lower two, however, his eyes bugging at what he saw.

"Whose movies are these?" he asked, crouching down as he looked through the shelves. No, he hadn't expected to find an avid collection of anime at Mari's house, let alone DVD upon DVD of classic movies and shows. She already owned the two he'd brought, and some that he didn't even recognize. And he knew _a lot_ of anime.

"Uh…" She bent down beside him. "Th-those are my dad's and… and mine."

"Really?" He grinned up at her. "You seriously like anime?"

"Um, well, eh…" She fidgeted a bit, shifting her weight nervously. "My dad's always liked it, s-so I guess, uh, yeah, I do." He was already looking through her collection again, not quite understanding why she was suddenly so uncomfortable.

"Ha, you have The Cat Returns," he skimmed the titles. "And Catnapped." They had almost all the Studio Ghibli films, as well tons of classics from the eighties and nineties like Ghost in a Shell and Akira, as well as series' like Revolutionary Girl Utena and Gundam.

Crossing his legs beneath him and sitting, Adrien began skimming all the titles, to see if there were any he hadn't seen yet. As he'd spent so many years by himself, he'd run through plenty of shows—anime and other cartoons alike. But he did see a few on their shelves that weren't familiar to him.

"You-you watch anime?" Mari eventually asked.

"Yeah! I've seen most of these actually. What's this one?" He'd pulled out a title that, based on the art, looked to be from around the mid-nineties. "Vision of Escaflowne?"

"It's about this psychic girl from earth who gets transported to another world. A fantasy kind of world." She crouched down beside him, hugging her arm around her knees. "They're at war and they have these big robots they fight in and there's dragons and angels and cat people."

"Cat people!" He held the DVD up above his head. "We'll watch this."

Mari laughed. "You really want to?"

"Yeah, why not?" He'd turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

"I just… wouldn't have thought you'd like this kind of thing," she admitted quietly, taking the DVD from him.

"Why not?" He cocked his head.

"I dunno, it's, like, I guess…" she shrugged, "nerdy kind of stuff."

"Really?" He wouldn't have thought that. Why would anime be nerdy? It was just cartoons from Japan. Like Disney movies from America and such, only more badass most of the time, or so he'd observed. "I guess I'm a nerd then."

"Actually, it just makes you a weeb." She giggled and he frowned, familiar with the term from the internet.

"Makes you a weeb too," he countered.

"I guess that's true…" Standing, she ruffled his hair, Adrien scowling in annoyance before getting to his feet behind her. Straightening his hair as best he could, he trailed her back around to the couch.

"This one's really good," she explained, holding up "The Vision of Escaflowne." "The main character can be a bit annoying sometimes, but, like, not Usagi from Sailor Moon levels of annoying or anything."

"Mmm. Usagi's a lot less annoying in the manga." He sat down on the sectional, pulling up his leg and crossing his ankle over his knee. In front of the television, Mari was putting the DVD into the player.

"Yeah, but the character development in the manga's not very good."

"It's basically nonexistent," Adrien agreed.

"I really wouldn't have thought you'd like this kind of thing," she said as she made her way over, sitting on the part of the sectional perpendicular to his as she reached for the remote on the coffee table.

Adrien shrugged. "I had to fill my time with something…" She cast him a curious look and he wondered if perhaps he'd said too much. But before she could question him, Tom coming up from the bakery distracted them both.

They turned their heads over their shoulders to watch him. He kissed his wife on the cheek, appearing tired as he finally set his sights on them. He looked first at Mari, then at Adrien, lips pursing in much the same way they had when Adrien had initially come in.

He sank a bit in his seat and looked down at the cushions.

Tom audibly sighed, making his way toward them. "Watching movies all night then?" he asked stiffly, Adrien only daring to look up from under his lashes as Mari leaned forward on her knees and kissed her father on the cheek.

"Pretty much," she verified. They weren't watching movies, specifically, but it was the same idea.

Tom grunted, crossing his broad arms over his chest. Really, he'd been much friendlier the time Adrien had been there to practice for the gaming tournament. But each visit since, he got the feeling, more and more, that Tom disapproved of him. Or, at least, disapproved of him dragging Mari out of her own house by her ankles and spending the night.

"Dad…" Mari muttered quietly, because Tom had been watching Adrien the last few moments. Adrien, who wasn't sure if he was supposed to meet Tom's gaze or continue looking away. His uncertainty led him to begin fiddling with his bracelet.

Abruptly, he was very much aware that he was a sixteen-year-old boy wearing a Ladybug onesie, and that Mari was this very large, very muscular man's daughter.

"Leave them be, Tom," Sabine said a moment later. "Let them watch their show."

His wife's scolding only made Tom look more displeased, much to Mari's tightlipped annoyance. And, supposing there was no reason for Tom to actually do anything to him, Adrien did finally dare meet the older man's gaze. They stared at one another for a few seconds, before Tom pulled up two fingers, directed them at his own eyes, and then flipped them around so they were pointed at Adrien instead.

" _Dad_ …" Mari groaned again, this time through gritted teeth. Adrien, on the other hand, furrowed his eyebrows—feeling somewhat alarmed—and shied just a little further away.

Seeming satisfied with his reaction, Tom nodded once and finally turned, Mari mouthing silent, mortified apologies in Adrien's direction. They didn't say much for a while to follow, instead settling into the couch as Mari got the television playing. It wasn't until one episode had passed and both Sabine and Tom had retreated to their bedroom that she finally scooted around the sectional to sit a little closer to him.

"Sorry about my dad," she muttered through the opening of episode two, pulling her legs up and crossing them beneath her. "He's just overprotective."

Adrien almost laughed. Almost. "It's fine," he assured, trying not to sound bitter despite how the irony of her statement rolled in his stomach. "I suppose he's got the right to be."

"No he doesn't," Mari muttered. "You'd never hurt me."

Her certainty took him a bit aback, despite the truth of her statement. Because she was right—so long as he was in his right mind, he never would hurt her. Her apparent trust, however, wedged a rock into his throat that he had considerable trouble swallowing.

Ultimately, he couldn't address what she'd said directly, and settled for talking around the subject. He was pretty good at that sort of thing, apparently. "Cut him some slack," he murmured. "Not like they know I'm Chat Noir and you're Ladybug or something." And that he spent a good chunk of his time not only being her wingman, but jumping into danger with and for her. As far as they were concerned, he was just some random teenage boy getting too close to their daughter too quickly.

Maybe he had been asking a bit much, mentioning the whole sleepover thing. He hoped it hadn't put any stress between Mari and her parents…

"You're not mad?" she asked quietly.

"What? No. Trust me, your dad's not that bad." He wished he could claim that all his father had ever done was glare at his friends. "You're lucky, actually. Your parents really care about you." But didn't resort to strict isolation in order to protect her.

"I guess," she agreed, glancing back at the television where the episode was playing. With a huff, her face cleared of her previous worries, the next expression she cast his way being a smile. "You want snacks?"

"Sure." He grinned back. Leaving him on the couch, she went rifling through the kitchen, eventually coming back with chips and cookies, as well as a basket of bread products (much to Adrien's silent delight). They sat and watched two more episodes, the light in Mari's parents' room eventually going off despite how the sliding, screen door remained open. There was still a good distance between them—her parents room was located near the front door—so they weren't too conscious of being quiet about crinkling bags and packages.

Or, eventually, discreet discussion.

"Adrien?" Mari asked when the credits for the third episode started to roll. He glanced over at her, a muffin halfway to his mouth as he did. He paused when he saw the unease in her posture and expression however, his own nerves spiking in response. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, My Lady." The only light on in the house was the one above the kitchen sink. That, along with the flashing of the television, left everything in a sort of hazy yellow glow. Yet, still, Mari's worried blue eyes stood out like polished baubles.

"Are you… Are you alright?" A very vague question when considering how careful she'd come across in asking for permission. Yet, Adrien knew right away what she was referring to. He'd hoped he'd hid it well, his own emotions when they'd been discussing her father's behavior. But, clearly, that wasn't the case. Which left him with two choices—either play dumb or be somewhat honest.

Neither was appealing, but he attempted the prior first.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning a small smile. She didn't appear impressed by his response, lips pulling into a slight frown as she stared at him. But he stood by his question, hoping that, somehow, she'd drop the subject.

He should have known better.

"You can tell me, you know," she muttered, episode four playing around them. "You can trust me."

Adrien almost groaned. Because there she was, practically backing him into a corner. Manipulating him into a corner, actually. Which he wasn't all that thrilled about. After she'd admitted to trusting him so explicitly, just to turn the tables. Somehow, it felt like a cheap shot and he didn't appreciate it.

"I do trust you," he admitted, façade falling away. "I just don't wanna talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to." Did he need some other reason?

"Adrien…"

"Can you stop asking please?" His tone had been short, snappish, and Mari pursed her lips before turning her attention back to the television.

"Fine," she said coldly, crossing her arms as she did. They were silent for few seconds, the space between them quickly bloating and becoming thick, which caused Adrien to sigh.

"I don't wanna talk about my father, okay? It'll just spoil the mood."

"Too late for that."

"Mari, seriously?" He was really starting to get irritated.

"What?"

"Why're you pushing the subject?" Couldn't he just get away from his father for one night? Not like he hadn't been constantly plagued by thoughts of him all week. As well as guilt and a certain degree of helplessness over what to do. Was it so much to ask to just escape?

"Because it's not healthy to keep that kind of stuff bottled up," she countered, finally looking back at him. "I can tell something is bothering you. Talking about it might make you feel better."

"Yeah, I doubt it," he said stubbornly. "There's nothing to be done about it so there's no point in talking about it."

"Now you're just being childish."

An accusation that really did get him bristling. "Why? Because I want to keep my business as my own?" he hissed. "Since when is what goes on between my father and I your business?"

"Since friends talk about these sorts of things," she whispered back just as fiercely. "Besides, aren't you the one that's always going on about how we need to be closer and get to know one another better? None of that matters if you can't open up."

"I am open. Just not about that."

"Okay, fine." She sat straighter, pretending to accept his reasoning. "Let's talk about something else, then. How about your mother?"

He scowled. "Why are you being like this?"

"Because apparently you think it's okay to care about others and put yourself in danger, but you won't let anyone else help you. Well, guess what? That's not how it works. And if that is how you want it to work—totally one-sided—then you can just go right now. Because I don't want a partner who's going to be like that." She turned pointedly away.

Adrien grit his teeth, staring at her profile as her words sank through him. It wasn't that he was trying to do as she described—be "one-sided," as she said. He just didn't want to talk about his family issues. They were issues that were constant, that there were no solutions to, and so pulling them to the forefront seemed pointless.

But she really did look irritated and he wasn't sure if he had the right to be irked by her prying or not. Certainly, it was his business, but she was only concerned. He'd already assured her previously that she shouldn't be, but apparently he hadn't hid his distress as well as he'd wanted—not from her, anyway. And it wasn't exactly fair to let her worry needlessly.

Yet, it also wasn't her business! Not if he didn't want it to be…

Maybe that was the whole problem. He didn't want it to be _his_ business, let alone anyone else's.

He huffed.

"We just fight, alright?" he managed to grind out, the words coming as easily as pulling his own feet from hardened concrete. "He wants things that I disagree with and so we fight. It's normal."

"That's not normal, Adrien," she said quietly, having turned back to him. "Or, even if it is for you, it's not healthy. What do you two fight about?"

He growled, but she didn't seem the least bit bothered. "Everything."

"Adrien…"

"What do you want me to say, Mari?" he snapped, meeting her gaze almost aggressively. "I wanted to go to public school, he wanted me to stay homeschooled. I want to walk to school, he wants me to take the driver. He wants me to have a bodyguard, I don't want one. I like my friends, he hates them. He thinks he's protecting me, but I feel like he's stifling me. We literally disagree on everything. There's no point in talking about it." Yanking his eyes from hers, he glared at the television.

There was a slight pause before she spoke again, tone gentle. "A lot of that seems to have changed recently."

"What has?"

"What you do, I guess," she observed. "No more driver, no more bodyguard. He must be listening to you then, right?"

Wrong. Adrien wasn't giving Gabriel a choice. His father knew his secret and, somehow, Adrien had managed to use that to his advantage. It wasn't Gabriel listening to him—it was him finally having the upper hand. The winning argument, not a solution.

But he couldn't tell Mari that. They were supposed to keep their identities hidden, confide in only one another. He didn't want to disappoint her with his failure. He wasn't sure he could bear that.

"He's… been more manageable," Adrien settled for saying, hoping that would be adequate.

"Manageable?" Mari cocked an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Why couldn't she just drop it?!

"It means just that. I finally yelled back at him and now he does what I want." Words that didn't come out, exactly, as he'd intended them—even if they were true. But as they echoed between them, he almost cringed at their immaturity. At how… spoiled the whole situation made him look. But maybe that was fair. He didn't know. Every day, his guilt over what he'd said burrowed deeper, making him feel worse. He'd begun to second-guess his own reasons, to retreat despite finally getting what he wanted, and question whether he was really as right as he thought he was. He knew, somehow, that he wasn't wrong, yet not entirely justified either.

Really, he felt like he'd found a giant hammer and then thrown it around carelessly, destroying when he hadn't intended to. Perhaps he could have used the weapon to build something, but he'd wielded it improperly and now he had to deal with the debris.

"You yelled at your father?" Mari asked quietly—delicately.

Adrien swallowed. "Yes. A few times recently, actually."

"You don't… normally yell at him, do you?" She'd met his father, after all. Even seen them communicate a bit. He was braver as Chat Noir, but, overall, had rarely displayed any outward hostility or recourse to his father's attitude.

"No." The word felt like a knot on his tongue, heavy and painful, but as though it were untying. Unraveling despite how he tried to swallow it.

"And now he's listening to you?" she asked. "Well, even if you did yell, that's good, right?"

"You don't understand," he muttered, staring down at his lap.

Reaching out, she laid her hand gently on his arm, which was more than he was ready for. He pursed his lips, trying to contain it all, but his breath shook anyway, and his hands balled into fists.

"Help me to understand," she murmured, her hold on him squeezing just a bit.

He breathed harshly out through his nose. "I said some things I shouldn't have," he admitted, doing so making it even harder to keep his composure. He focused hard on keeping his lips steady, on gulping back the tightness that wanted to flood up through him. "Horrible, nasty things."

"Adrien…" She didn't sound disapproving, just sympathetic, which was worse. He didn't deserve sympathy—not after what he's said. Not after he'd taken the carefully wrapped wound shared between both Gabriel and himself and shredded the gauze, before digging his claws into the injury and ripping it open.

He hated the words he'd unleashed, and he hated himself for it.

"I blamed him," he choked out, blinking rapidly and only barely holding everything at bay. "I said the exact thing that I knew I never should. I told him it was his fault she was gone. That she probably left because of him—because he'd… suffocated the life out of her. Like he was doing to me." Repeating the words tasted so vile that he had to actually rub his tongue against the edges of his teeth, as though trying to scrub it all away.

Both Mari's hands were holding his arm now, his insides twisting with forced control.

"I know he blames himself. I know… because I blame myself too. And I sh-shouldn't have said it."

But he had. And nothing could take that back.

He knew Mari was staring at him, lips slightly parted. And he knew she didn't understand—that she couldn't, even if he explained it. Because her family was wonderful and healthy and _there_. And they loved her the right ways and she'd never had to deal with losing her mother or, in a way, losing her father too. She didn't know isolation, or helpless guilt. Or what it was like to wonder what you'd done wrong.

So many years wondering—just, what he'd done that could have caused her to leave.

Why he wasn't good enough for her to stay.

Why, _why_ she'd disappeared.

"I'm sorry," he coughed out, lashes fluttering rapidly. "I shouldn't have said anything." Mari didn't need his baggage—it'd only weigh her down.

"No, Adrien." She shook her head. "Thank you, for telling me. I'm glad you told me. You shouldn't… You don't have to deal with this stuff all on your own."

"It's my business, not yours."

"Then let it be my business," she said firmly, still gripping his arm. "That's what friends are for."

"There's nothing I can do about it. Doesn't matter anymore."

"It _does_ matter. It matters to _you_. So it matters to me too."

"Mari…"

"Maybe I can't help with your dad," she went on. "But I am here for you. To listen. You're my friend, Adrien. A very important friend. Please, don't shut me out."

"I'm not… trying to…"

"It's okay. I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

No matter what horrible things he said.

He sniffed, still holding the chains that, somehow, continued to coil inside him—desperately attempting to hold everything together despite how it all leaked through the links.

"I hurt him, Mari," he admitted quietly. "What if he hates me now? Wh-what if he leaves too?" What if that was why he wasn't arguing anymore, or why he was giving in to Adrien's demands? Because, like perhaps his mother had been, Gabriel had only put up with him and protected him because he had to?

What if he'd destroyed everything with his stupid, thoughtless words?

"Your father's not going to leave you," she murmured, scooting right up beside him. "He loves you. He's always tried to protect you, right? Just because you said some hurtful things, that doesn't mean he'd just stop loving you. That's not… That's not how parents work."

Not how her parents worked, maybe.

"My mother's gone, Mari," he choked out, lips trembling as a single tear finally breached his defenses. "He could leave too."

There wasn't a question to it. He had the experience to know. Just because his father hadn't disappeared, didn't mean he couldn't. There was no way to know for certain, to predict the future. And that terrified him—had always made him careful about what he'd said and how. Like always walking on eggshells, doing whatever he could to please his father.

But then he'd gotten older and begun to want more. He'd run away to school. And tasted freedom. Gotten carried away on it, he feared.

"Your father's not going to leave you, Adrien," Mari repeated. "He loves you. I know he does. He has a whole wall dedicated to you. If a few arguments were enough to make him leave, then he wouldn't have bothered with such things. He thinks you're perfect."

"Who he thought I was he thinks is perfect," he muttered brokenly, reaching up to wipe his eyes to no avail. "I'm not the person he thinks I am."

"Adrien…"

Feeling stupid, and useless, and childish—just as she'd said—he vainly continued to wipe at his eyes. But like a dam had been opened, it just kept coming. He didn't want to be like this, to be so broken in front of her. He was supposed to be her partner, her support. She didn't need his problems. She was so much stronger than he was—most of the time he thought she didn't even need him. Which was why he had to make himself useful in any and all ways that he could.

Crying on her couch was not useful. It was pathetic.

Groaning, he shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes and jammed his elbows onto his knees. Why couldn't it stop? Why couldn't it all just go away?!

"Goddammit…"

"Adrien, it's okay," she murmured, her grip drifting up from his arm to wrap around his back. She held him, her head leaning on his shoulder. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Even if he did just sit on her couch with ugly tears dribbling down his cheeks. Part of him wished she wasn't there. He was accustomed to dealing with these sorts of things alone—to fighting by himself. But a small, growing seed in his chest was thankful she was there. That her warmth spiraled around him so thickly and held him up. He was used to standing all on his own, and, to be honest, didn't want to need her help to do that. But she was offering it, was acting on it, and he didn't have the energy to fight her.

Rather, he closed his eyes and focused on her arms around him, and the weight of her head. How her small body lined his and, somehow, reminded him that he wasn't alone.

She really was there, and that was something he hadn't had in a long time.

She made breathing easier, made finding his control more direct and less floundering. He was crying, sure, but he wasn't breaking. As she held him, so to did she hold the pieces together, until he could reorganize them into something stable. Until he could breathe without shaking and finally quell the tears.

Swallowing, he wiped what remained of the salty wetness from his cheeks, sitting back in the same moment. He didn't look at her—was afraid of what he'd find in her expression—and instead focused on the television.

Her grip drifted down, until she was wrapping her arms around his, head still leaning on his shoulder.

She didn't say anything more. He was grateful for that.

He got through another episode and a half, only half paying attention, before he realized it—that she'd fallen asleep. Still nestled against his shoulder, she breathed easy, holding his arm even as she dreamed.

Like she refused to let him go.

Smiling just a bit, despite how his cheeks felt stiff, Adrien watched her for a second longer before ultimately deciding that he didn't dare disturb her. Gently, he laid his own head on hers, finally relaxing as he closed his eyes—more tranquil than he had been in over a week.

"Thank you," he whispered, despite her inability to hear.

He didn't even realize he'd also drifted off until Sabine's voice was echoing in his ears.

"It's almost eleven," she was saying. "If you want breakfast, you better wake up soon." The words didn't initially make any sense, Adrien blinking blearily against the violent light filtering in through the windows. Of course, he took their meaning, but his brain wasn't connecting such things in a way that he'd consider relatable.

Until he registered a heavy weight leaning against him, and remembered that he was at Mari's.

Face scrunching, he reached up and scrubbed at his face with his hand, yawning in the same moment. Mari still had his other arm caged between her own, though she'd changed position a bit. Her face was nuzzled in the corner between his shoulder and the couch, her legs curled up under her. Almost like she was hiding.

Groggy and feeling more well rested than he had in a while, Adrien reached out and tapped her shoulder. "Mari, wake up," he said, yawning again.

She didn't, instead seeming to curl up closer to him.

"Mare-bear, it's almost eleven," he muttered, leaning down toward her ear. "Wakey, wakey."

"No…" she mumbled, Adrien quite convinced she was up already.

He tapped her shoulder a little harder. "But your mom has breakfast."

"Sleeping…"

"You can't sleep forever."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"Don't tell me what to do. You don't know me—you don't know my life."

"Sleeping people aren't that articulate," he reasoned, finally waking fully himself. "You're holding my arm hostage. I'll starve."

Groaning again, she unwrapped herself from around him before leaning back. Eyes rolling, she flopped against the blankets in the corner of the sectional, the ones they'd never used, before curling back up on her side.

"Don't go back to sleep," he said, poking her thigh. "I can't eat breakfast without you. That would be weird."

No response.

"Just leave her, Adrien," Sabine said from the kitchen. "She'll get up eventually. You can come eat. It's fine."

Frowning, he poked her again, this time really digging his finger into her thigh. She flinched back, but otherwise did nothing. Supposing Sabine was probably right, he gave in. Stretching his arms above his head, he bowed his whole back until all the drowsiness evaporated. Before he stood and rearranged the fabric of his onesie, so it wasn't crumpled and bunched.

"I hope toast is fine," Sabine said as he stumbled around the couch toward the counter. Rubbing his eyes again, he spotted a single stool on his side of the counter. Sabine slid a plate of fancy toast toward him at the same time, before setting a dish of butter and a jar of jam before him as well.

"Thanks, Mrs. Ch- Sabine," he said as he sat down, smiling a bit awkwardly up at her.

"Of course, honey," she replied, reaching out and patting his cheek lightly before she turned back to the stove. She was boiling water as well, teabags and chocolate powder sitting nearby.

A few moments later, as he was knifing jam onto his toast, he heard Mari moan again before the sound of her dragging feet inched closer. She eventually flopped down on the stool at the end of the counter, before pulling up her cat hood and laying her forehead on the countertop.

"No, no," Sabine said, chipper as ever. "No sleeping at breakfast." She'd gotten Mari a plate of toast as well and was tapping the edge of the plate against Mari's head—as if to rouse her.

It eventually worked, Mari leaning up before putting her head in her hand and her elbow on the edge of the counter. Though there was a plate of food in front of her, she still had her eyes closed, beginning to drift to the side precariously.

Eyebrows furrowing, Adrien reached out and touched her shoulder, if only to counterbalance the way she leaned.

The contact seemed to startle her. Snorting, she jolted her eyes open, blinking as she took in a quick breath. Pulling his hand back, Adrien snickered, chewing on a chunk of toast as she turned a glare on him.

"Your toast is getting cold, Marinette," Sabine scolded, finally pushing two cups of water and milk toward them, their choice between tea and chocolate.

Sighing—as if food was really such a great hassle—Mari finally focused in on her breakfast, a sleepy frown puling at the corners of her lips.

They ate in silence for a while, Sabine going about washing the counter while Mari woke up fully. Eventually, her blue eyes zeroed in on Adrien, who was in the midst of reaching for a teabag.

"Your hair is messy," she said simply.

Frowning, Adrien reached up and patted his head, noting that she was right. The back was smashed and sticking up in the air—a serious case of bedhead. Or, in this case, couch-head.

Not much he could do about it at the moment, though.

He stuck his tongue out at her and returned to his breakfast. "You're just jealous," he muttered. "I'm beautiful."

She scoffed. "You look like a peacock."

" _You_ look like a peacock."

"Wow, what a great comeback."

"What can I say? I'm a genius." He didn't have to look up to know she was rolling her eyes.

A second later, the familiar sound of a phone vibrating drew their attention, Mari reaching into the front pocket of her Chat onesie to retrieve it.

"Alya and some other people are hanging out later," she announced, eating while she typed. "You want to go?" Her question was clearly directed at him. He wanted to say something smarmy—about how he'd be honored to escort his Lady for a Saturday afternoon of festivities—but thought that was probably inappropriate with Sabine right there.

Better to stay simple. "Sure." He shrugged.

"Sweet." She set her phone facedown on the counter, full attention falling back to her meal. Adrien watched her for a moment—the lazy way she bit into her toast and chewed. How her bangs were shadowed by the hood of her onesie and how she was almost closing her eyes again.

Mari in her natural habitat, really.

Amusing, but also endearing, and Adrien grinned despite himself, popping a corner of toast between his lips.


	6. Part One - Bruises, Fractures, and Swollen Lips

"Everything leads to a dead end," Alya complained, sounding totally and completely dejected. "Why is it so hard to find information on any of this? Your mom's been the best source yet." She, Mari, and Alix were sitting at a picnic table beneath the stretching bows of a budding tree. Adrien was lying at the end in the grass, eyes closed as though he were napping. He wasn't, of course, but it was a comfortable position nonetheless.

"What are you trying to research?" Alix asked, only sounding moderately interested. As she'd already made quite clear, she was only still with them because she had another half an hour to waste before meeting her brother nearby. She'd originally come with Kim and Max, those three plus Alya, Mari, and him having been the group that'd been running around town all afternoon. Mostly with Kim from sports store to sports store, looking for some kind of specific shoe that Adrien knew nothing about. Running shoes, he'd gathered. They'd also stopped by an arcade, where Alya had beat them all quite soundly at Dance Dance Revolution, before getting food and finishing the afternoon in the park.

"Just superhero stuff," Alya groaned, Adrien wondering if the "thump" that followed was her forehead hitting the table. "Who would have thought that something as extraordinary as past superheroes would be so difficult to find any information on?"

"Well, they probably tried to be inconspicuous," Mari reasoned.

"Why? Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't inconspicuous."

"I don't think they can help it," Mari replied, chuckling. "They show up where the akuma do, inconspicuous or not."

"What superheroes are you researching?" Alix asked, sounding a bit more interested now. Above them, Adrien could hear the leaves wisping, a light breeze skirting across the grass. It was a nice feeling—calm and refreshing. Mari's voice riding on top of it all was agreeable too—he liked listening to her talk.

He liked having her nearby in general.

"Some Twin Tails superheroes from the World War II era," Mari explained. "I guess they were Polish? Or seen in Poland? We don't really know."

"And that's the bitch of it all," Alya moaned.

"You should talk to my dad, if you're really that serious about it," Alix said, Adrien frowning thoughtfully from the grass. "He's a historian at the Louvre. Ever since my brother and I got akumatized or whatever, he's been pretty interested in that kind of stuff. He might know something."

"Mr. Kubdel?" Alya asked, intent now.

"That is my last name," Alix said flatly.

"And even if he doesn't, he might know where to look," Mari offered, ever trying to be positive. "Worth a shot, yeah?"

"Totally!" Alya was excited again, Adrien smiling just a bit to himself. Despite her constant attempts to unveil their identities, Adrien liked Alya—even if he really didn't know her that well. But if she was Mari's best friend, then that already gave her high reviews in his book.

"Can I just stop by the Louvre and see him?" Alya asked.

"Eh, you better make an appointment," Alix replied. "He's pretty busy most of the time."

"Can I have his number?"

"Yeah, I guess," Alix said, sounding only moderately hesitant. "But I left my cell at home, and I don't have his number memorized."

"I only live a few streets over from you," Alya went on. "Could we go get it?"

"Well, I'm supposed to meet my brother in twenty minutes…"

"That's plenty of time!" Alya argued, Adrien able to hear the way the bench shifted as she stood. "C'mon, if we go now, you'll have enough time to come back this way."

"My dad's probably home," Alix mentioned, the bench continuing to shift as she, no doubt, also got to her feet. "It is Saturday."

"Even better!" Alya replied, Adrien able to hear the smile on her face. "Let's go! You want to come, Mari? Adrien?"

"Nah, that's okay," Mari replied. "You can tell me all about it later."

"Will do."

Adrien's silence seemed to be answer enough to the question, Alix and Alya's conversation fading as they headed out of the park. Keeping his eyes closed, he remained in the grass, fingers twined together atop his chest. He could hear some kids playing nearby and the traffic on the roads around them.

He tried to focus in on Mari—on her breathing, or maybe how she moved nearby. But he couldn't make anything out. Eventually, if only because of the silence, he felt forced to crack open a single eye. The sun was sprinkling in through the leaves of the trees, igniting her form above him. She was leaning over the edge of the table, head in her hand as she stared down at him.

He smirked, closing his eye again.

"You going to lay down there all evening?" she asked after a moment.

"Just a short cat-nap, My Lady." He took a deep breath. "I'm surprised you didn't want us to go with Alya."

"Well, I've only ever had a modest interest in the Ladyblog," she explained. "Overdo it on certain subjects and she might start to get suspicious. There are both positives and negatives to being best friends with the most avid Ladybug journalist in Paris. She'll fill me in anyway—whether I ask or not."

"Your own secret detective."

"Basically. She just doesn't know it." Mari giggled a bit, the noise more pleasing to Adrien's ears than he dared admit. "Well, Kitty, think we should head back? I'm sure Plagg is starving." Both the kwami were in her purse, as Adrien didn't have a proper bag on him at the moment. They had to return to the bakery for him to get his duffel, before he could head home, and it was there that Mari claimed to have one more container of camembert. Which Plagg would no doubt vacuum up within a matter of moments.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" he asked.

"We've literally been together all day," she countered. "'Soon' is hardly a relative term."

"Unfortunately," Adrien started, "I am in no position to get up."

"How's that?"

"Well, all that walking exhausted me. I'm afraid I simply don't have the energy to stand, let alone walk." Adding dramatics to his plight, he pulled his arm up over his eyes and frowned.

"Yeah, I bet," Mari snarked. "Guess I'll just have to leave you here then. Good luck surviving the night—I hear it's supposed to rain."

"How pawsitively clawful," he remarked. "And you'd simply leave me here? You wound me, My Lady, leaving a poor cat out in the rain."

"It's not raining yet. You have more than enough time to get your butt up and under cover. Don't blame me for that."

"I simply don't have the energy," he claimed, turning his head to the side. "I'll drown."

"How helpless you are," she finally agreed. "So vulnerable. What am I to do with you?"

Reaching his hands up into the air, he flexed his fingers. "Carry me."

"Yeah right."

"Then I'll die, alone and cold." He allowed his arms to flop out at his sides—seemingly useless as he continued to simply lie in the grass. "What a fate you would wish upon me."

"I didn't wish it. You have two legs and, last I checked, you knew how to walk."

"I'm a frail, delicate kitten, My Lady. I'm simply too weary."

"Woe is you."

"Indeed."

"Alright, c'mon, get up."

"Carry me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"You sentence me to a slow, cold, rainy death."

"Oh, for crying out loud."

"I keep crying out and you refuse to help me." He raised his hands again, eyes still closed. "I'm not heavy, I promise."

She sighed, Adrien grinning and supposing he'd lost. To push it much further would probably get on her nerves. Yet, just as he was about to open his eyes and get to his feet, two delicate hands wrapped around his wrists.

Lashes flying up abruptly, he grunted as she pulled him up. Her back was to him, as she'd crouched down, and her arms reached back over her shoulders as she tugged his wrists forward. Until he was sitting up, arms wrapping loosely around her neck.

"What are you doing?" he asked, chuckling a bit.

"I thought you wanted a lift," she said, casting him a devious grin over her shoulder. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No! By all means." Laughing again, he allowed himself to be pulled forward, chest to her back as he slid his legs up under him. A moment later—once his hands were securely fastened together in front of her—she reached back and slipped her own hold along the backs of his knees.

Grunting, she unfolded from her crouch, Adrien continuing to laugh as she lifted him—piggyback—into the air. Of course, though he be skinny, he was still heavy—especially for someone of her stature—and she stumbled almost as soon as she was standing.

"Don't drop me!" he said, arms wrapping more tightly around her as he unintentionally ran his nose into the back of her hair. She giggled, catching her balance a moment later. He sagged in her hold—due to their height difference and the fact that his body didn't match up perfectly to hers—and even as she jostled him into a more comfortable position, he felt like he'd slip right to the ground.

But she held him steady, gripping up under his thighs as he framed his legs around her hips. Doing what he could to help, he scooted closer—until they were flush against one another—and she faltered a step forward as a result.

"Don't wiggle around," she said, giggling again.

"What? Like this?" He shifted purposefully around her, kicking his legs out childishly.

"I _will_ drop you!" she threatened, stumbling to the side again.

"Well, it's really not that far a fall I suppose," he teased.

"Shut up." Almost jumping in order to do so, she hefted him up once again, until at least his thighs were gripping around the tops of her hips—even if his butt wasn't at quite the same level. Relaxing his arms around her neck, he settled for enfolding them around her shoulders, hands flat on her collarbone as he leaned up beside her ear. She was hunched a bit, which made sense—if she wasn't, she'd probably tip over backward.

Really, though, the whole situation made it all the more apparent to Adrien how petite she really was. He'd gained some inches in height that year, only a few from six foot, whereas she wasn't even close. And though he wasn't the broadest guy around, his shoulders still extended beyond hers by a fair amount. It was easy to wrap around her, his ankles even managing to hook together in front.

They probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but, honestly, he didn't care a single bit.

"Onward, good chariot," he issued. "Full speed ahead!"

"Of course, your majesty." Straining a bit, she wound herself up into a slow walk, Adrien continuing to laugh in her ear as she took heavy steps across the grass. She wavered considerably, a straight line impossible, and at one point almost side-stepped into a tree. Thankfully, Adrien reached up and pushed back on the trunk, rebounding them to the side before they could collide.

"You're definitely not this heavy as Chat Noir," she eventually said, hefting him up again.

"I think it's just that you're a lot stronger as Ladybug," he replied. "Marinette is _weak_."

"I am not weak," she said, stubbornly continuing to move forward. And, really, she wasn't. Though they didn't possess the same strength out of uniform as in, they still benefitted from all the physical exercise. It was still their bodies moving beneath the suits, after all, stretching and working even with extra boosts.

Adrien snickered, before he dared raise a hand to his forehead, straightening as he peered beneath it like a lookout. "The view from up here is…" he paused for dramatics, "worse than my regular view, actually. You're quite small, My Lady."

" _Ugh_. You're so annoying."

"How tall are you? You're like a little bug. How difficult it must be, being this short all the time."

"Stop talking."

"Kind of fitting though, really."

"I should have left you in the grass."

"How do you even see most of the time?"

She groaned.

"Will you legally be allowed to drive?"

"I will seriously drop you." She'd hobbled her way to the street—which ran in a square along the edges of the park, bordered by the shops—and Adrien made sure no traffic was coming before she stepped down to cross. Soon they were making their way out of the corner opening in the buildings, her parents' bakery just to the left.

He could tell she was struggling, breathing hard as he sagged in her hold.

"You can put me down, you know," he murmured in her ear, grinning.

"It's… fine," she assured, pausing to heft him up once again, before she headed vaguely in the direction of the bakery. "Wouldn't want your tired feet to break under you."

His laugh was light, soft almost. "No, we wouldn't want that…"

As determined as ever, she marched right up to the bakery door, Adrien doing the duty of reaching out to open it before she stumbled inside. He had to catch them on one of the bakery shelves before they toppled into it, the both of them giggling like idiots as they righted themselves.

Across the bakery—helping the customers who'd turned back to give the rambunctious teenagers funny looks—was Sabine, who glanced up in surprise at their entrance before smiling tightly and putting her hands on her hips.

"I've recently become paralyzed from the waist down," Adrien explained as they approached the counter.

"How inconvenient," Sabine remarked.

"You have no idea," Mari said, voice straining. Adrien could see her grinning in the reflection of the nearby glass, however. "Where's Dad?"

"He had to do a delivery," Sabine explained.

"Oh, okay." Mari readjusted him again, Adrien doing his best to ignore all the staring they were getting from the customers. But, really, it was worth it as far as he was concerned. Any time he could spend close to Mari—whether it be something as simple as sitting beside one another or as silly as him being plastered to her back—he'd take. So long as she was willing to put up with him, anyway. "I'm going to take him upstairs then," Mari went on. "To get his stuff so he can _leave_."

Not wanting to make a dramatic scene in front of Sabine's patrons, Adrien said nothing in response, instead simply tightening his thighs around Mari's hips in silent protest. He didn't want to go home, but he knew to say as much would be to wear out his welcome. Her house was so much warmer than his—busy and small, all the spaces filled. There was nothing but wide emptiness back at his own house—loneliness, boredom. As well as the strict tension between him and his father.

Being at Mari's was so much easier—so much more fulfilling. Plus, _she_ was there. He wanted to be anywhere she was.

But that was too heavy a burden to put on her. To even mention it was too much. She clearly didn't want him around twenty-four seven, so he'd settle for weekend visits and whatever else she'd give him. He didn't have much of a choice otherwise.

"Alright. Just… don't go up the stairs like that," Sabine said, looking them up and down.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Adrien assured, while Mari revved herself up and stumbled forward. With him reaching out to pull open the back door, they were soon marching their way to the base of the stairs, Adrien readying himself to dismount.

Except that Mari didn't stop.

"Didn't your mom just say not to do this?" he asked as she stubbornly put her foot on the first step.

"She doesn't know what I'm capable of," she rebuked, Adrien gripping her a little tighter as she started up the steps.

"This seems like a really bad idea," he admitted, carefully watching her feet as she climbed to the second step. "I'm just gonna get down now." Not like he couldn't reach the floor or something.

"Don't even think about it," she scolded, her fingers tightening under his thighs. He didn't want to unbalance her and land them both with broken necks, so he didn't struggle. Rather, as she climbed, he made sure to lean forward so that, if they did fall, it at least wouldn't be down.

She made it without much of any struggle, however, before she veered them toward the door. Adrien made sure to reach out and get the knob, Mari dragging them into the entranceway a second later.

He didn't know what she was thinking following—if she thought it'd be funny or if she'd simply run out of steam—but before he had time to react, her hands let go of his thighs and he was freefalling. Comically, perhaps, he would have landed on his butt, but these things didn't ever quite work out the way one would imagine. Rather, eyes wide and arms still wrapped together, he accidentally close-lined her as he dropped, pulling her down with him.

She squawked—which made sense as he was practically yanking her down by the throat—and with a crash they landed on the floor, legs flying in typical, Mari-is-sometimes-a-klutz fashion.

Adrien, in the moment and after, didn't know exactly what it was—her hip or elbow or what. But it was something sharp, and it hit him with all her weight behind it. Right below the belt and precisely between his legs.

It was in those moments that, as the lights flashed too bright above him, he thought he might die.

He may have blacked out for a minute, he wasn't sure.

When awareness did finally return to him, he was curled up in the fetal position on the floor, face hot with sweat and lungs heaving. Everything was painful—from his groin to his stomach to how tightly he was gritting his teeth. He wanted to throw up, but that sounded painful too, so instead, cheek lying on the hardwood, all he could do was listen to his heart beating fast in his own ears and moan.

Whine, maybe. Whining and moaning.

Everything between his legs felt like it was crushed beyond repair, even though he knew that wasn't true. But such knowledge didn't help him in the moment. Agony was ricocheting through his whole body and he'd never wanted the protection of his Chat Noir suit more since getting his ring. Instead, he had to be content with his arms tucked between his legs—as if that could fend off the damage that was already done.

God, he really felt like he was going to be sick. _Violently_ sick.

"Adrien?! Oh, god, Adrien, I'm so sorry!" At some point, her voice got through, Adrien partially aware of her hand rubbing his shoulder. "Are you alright?! Oh god, I'm such a klutz. Please be okay! I'm so, so, so sorry!"

"Humans are so frail in their squishiness. Why don't they just bounce back?"

"Plagg! He's hurt! Show a little more compassion!"

"What?! Why do humans have such sensitive areas just out in the open? Seems like deficient evolution to me."

"Adrien? Adrien, are you okay? Should I do something? Get someone? Should I call an ambulance?"

He gasped. "No…" Voice strangled, he pinched his eyes closed and took in a hissing breath. "I'm fine. Will be- Will be fine." Maybe. It wouldn't stop _hurting_. He could feel the pain throbbing all the way up through his stomach—like he had a giant migraine between his legs.

No, it was definitely _worse_.

"Get him some water, Marinette," Tikki issued shortly. "I think that might help."

"O-Okay." Mari was gone and back again in a few seconds, Adrien barely cracking his eyes open to look up at her. A glass of water was pretty useless however, with him lying on the floor, and the idea of moving to get up was hardly appealing.

Along with the pain now, too, was a heavy layer of embarrassment. He was lying on her floor with his hands gripped between his legs, sweating and panting and groaning. At least he wasn't crying.

Yet.

"Should- Should you sit up?" Mari asked gently. "O-or not, whatever you need. What do you need? Oh _god_ , Adrien I'm _so sorry_!" She was sitting beside him again, the glass of water getting pushed off to the side as she reached up and covered her face with her hands.

It was then that something other than agony and embarrassment finally began to register inside him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying on the floor, but it had to be long enough. He didn't want her to feel bad—it'd been an accident.

He was tough and he'd been thrown around worse. He could handle this.

Well, maybe. Perhaps he could fake it. For her. So long as he didn't puke his guts out in the process.

"I'm- I'm okay," he managed to mutter out, daring to pull his hands out from between his legs. The loss of pressure and the spurring of movement was almost too much, but he grit his teeth and bore it. "It's okay, Mari. Don't- Don't be upset."

Hands shaking a bit, he pushed himself up into sitting through the pain, breathing hard as he did.

The pain would just not let up, the throbbing so bad he thought it was rocking his whole body.

Plagg was right. Who ever thought this design was a good idea?

"I can't believe this," Mari lamented, splitting her fingers to look at him. "I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ stupid."

"You- You're not stupid," he managed to get out, pursing his lips to stop an involuntary whine from leaving his throat. He swallowed hard against it. "It's fine. I've- I've had worse."

"I'm such an idiot…"

"You're not. It's- I-" He couldn't hide it—the pain was too excruciating. And he didn't want her to keep worrying. How utterly humiliating—for him. "Actually, I better go…" If he could even get home.

Just power through.

"Adrien?"

"It- It's okay. I just- I should go." He nodded, as if needing to convince himself the idea was a good one.

"Are- Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just… Can you get me my bag?"

"Yeah, of course…" She was standing a second later, padding up to her bedroom while Adrien remained on the floor trying to catch his breath. He wasn't faring much better when she returned, which only made him want to get away more. Before he could humiliate himself further.

"Thanks," he said, glancing up to where she was holding his bag in hand. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked completely horrified.

He'd get up on his own. He wouldn't ask for help.

Ignoring the urge to cry out, he forced himself to stand, having to prop himself up against the wall once he was on his feet. His legs shook a bit and he closed his eyes against the urge to vomit.

Deep breaths.

Clearing his throat, he eventually glanced back at her. Reaching out, he took his bag and placed it gingerly on his shoulder—as if his whole body was one giant nerve.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you on Monday," he managed to cough out.

"Do- Do you need- Should I walk you home?"

" _No_!" He shook his head quickly. "I'm good. Fine. _Perfect_." He gave her a thumbs up, Plagg slipping into his bag as he turned away.

Walking proved to be a challenge all on its own and he had to mentally chant "don't puke, don't puke, don't puke" all the way out her door, as well as down the stairs and past Sabine.

The walk home was very slow and very, very painful.

**oOo**

"Did you finish it?" Alya was sitting back in her seat, staring at Nino with one eyebrow cocked. He was staring up at her with a gaping mouth, looking somewhat like a fish. Helpless, maybe, beneath Alya's fierce questioning.

Marinette wasn't sure what was going on between her best friend and Nino, and Alya always waved her off when she tried to bring it up. Not that she particularly cared in those few minutes before class. She was too busy looking neurotically between her phone and the front door, as if one or the other would give her some sign of Adrien.

She'd tried texting him Saturday night, as well as Sunday morning, but he hadn't replied until almost eleven Sunday night. And that was just to cancel their Monday run. Apparently he was sick. Marinette wasn't buying it.

She was pretty positive he hated her.

Which she understood. After what she'd done to him—basically mutilated him—she deserved it. He'd probably walk in, see her, and run the other way!

How had she screwed this up?! Now Adrien _and_ Chat Noir were going to hate her! After things had been going so well! She'd mostly gotten over her nerves around him, only to have something like her own clumsiness remind her why she should be nervous around him in the first place. Because she was ridiculous and had actually _hurt him_.

He was never going to look at her, talk to her, want to be around her, ever again. Which meant that he'd stop being Chat Noir and she'd be _alone_! And then Hawkmoth would get her miraculous because she wasn't strong enough without him and the world would _literally end_ (probably)!

All because she was a stupid klutz!

"Finish what?" Nino asked.

"Your project," Alya replied, silence wafting between them when he didn't immediately reply. "You didn't, did you?" she eventually determined. "You're going to fail if you keep this up." She was totally serious, the harshness of her voice causing Nino to frown.

"It's not my fault," he claimed defensively. "Adrien was my partner and we were going to do it yesterday, but then… we couldn't."

"Sounds like an excuse to me," Alya remarked, not the least bit impressed.

"It's not!" Nino claimed. "Dude was in the hospital!"

"What?" Both Alya and Marinette questioned him at the same time.

"Uh, I mean, er, eh…" Nino cringed. "I didn't finish it because Adrien was… in the… hospital?"

"Why was he in the hospital?" Marinette asked quickly, all her anxiety popping away before the space was flooded with concern. "Is he alright?"

"Um, he-he's fine," Nino said, looking oddly uncomfortable. "Look, I wasn't really supposed to say anything. Bro asked me not to."

"Well, too late for that," Alya said, leaning forward with a devious grin on her face. "Why was Adrien in the hospital?" Because if he was fine, then there was no reason to worry. Or so logic would dictate. But Marinette worried anyway.

"Please, Nino," she begged quite sincerely. "What happened?"

"Look, he…" Nino huffed. "He just, like, fell off his rock climbing wall or something. I don't know! He's fine. That's all that matters."

"He fell off his rock climbing wall?" Marinette asked, shoulders dropping.

"No, Marinette, don't look like that," Nino begged. "He's totes fine. Just hurt himself a bit. He's fine."

Alya narrowed her eyes. "Seems like someone falling off a rock climbing wall wouldn't be fine. Not if they had to go to the hospital…" She leaned even further forward. "What are you hiding?"

"Seriously, ladies, he's fine." Pause. "He asked me not to tell."

"You can trust us," Alya replied, winking once. "C'mon, spill the beans."

Trying to appear as earnest as possible, Marinette clasped her hands together beneath her chin and stared.

Nino sighed.

"Just… don't mention it," Nino said quietly, leaning a bit closer. "It's, like, guy stuff."

"Guy stuff?" Alya murmured, "ohhhing" suggestively as she did.

"Not like that," Nino corrected, glaring at her. "He hurt himself, that's all. And it kept hurting. Freaked him out, so he had to ask his dad to take him to the emergency room. Nothing serious. Just bruising… or something." Nino looked like he'd be sick just thinking about it, while Alya covered her mouth with her hand to hide her cringe.

Marinette, on the other hand, felt as though her whole body had gone cold.

She was dying. Officially.

Because, oh god, she'd put Adrien in the hospital.

 _She'd put Adrien in the hospital_! With a _groin_ injury, to put it in PG terms.

Quite unaware of the high-pitched moan that was leaving her throat, Marinette slowly turned to face the front of the room. Before she folded her arms on her desk and slowly lowered her head—until she was successfully hiding inside her own misery.

"Marinette? Are you alright?" Alya asked.

She didn't respond. Because no! She was not alright! She couldn't believe she'd done this! No wonder he'd cancelled running and been ignoring her! It was because of her that he had _bruising_! And had to ask his _dad_ to take him to the _emergency room_!

She was a despicable, pathetic, abhorrent human being!

He'd never forgive her…

With her head on her arms, she hid so well that she didn't even know Adrien had finally shown up until she heard his voice.

"Nino!" Peeking up, if only out of surprise, she saw him standing beside his desk, gesturing up toward her and Alya. Her—a pathetic, whining mess. And Alya—who had her hand on her chest and was giving him the most sympathetic look she could muster. "I told you not to _say_ anything!"

"Dude, I'm sorry!" Nino replied. "They coerced me!"

Alya was skeptical. "We did not."

"Did too!" Nino accused, the both of them glaring at one another.

Despite their fighting, Adrien's eyes eventually landed on Marinette, his own cheeks flushing. His hand twitched, like he wanted to gesture toward her, but then the presence of the others stopped him.

Which was fine with Marinette. Adrien was so nice. He'd probably just lay his hand on her shoulder and politely tell her that they couldn't be friends anymore.

The thought was too much. Looking away, she buried her face back in her arms and wallowed.

A few seconds later, their teacher walked in, putting an end to any potential conversation. Marinette didn't know whether she was glad or not. Granted, it postponed the inevitable, but also left her to stare at the back of Adrien's head the entire class period (he never once looked back at her). When it was finally time for lunch, she was ready to burst with dread. So much so, in fact, that she just couldn't bring herself to face him. Two minutes before they were released, she tucked her things away in her bag. Ready.

As soon as she was allowed, she was on her feet and speed-walking out of the room. A speed-walk that turned into a jog as soon as she was in the hall.

"Mari! Wait!" Oh god, he was chasing her! Couldn't he just let dead dogs lie?! She knew what he wanted to say—he didn't need to actually say it! "Mari, please, don't… run." She was already down the stairs and heading fast around the railings.

"Mari!" He was leaning over the banister, trying to grab her attention. "Please, Mari, stop! Running is… really difficult right now."

Well, she couldn't run away from _that_.

Whimpering, she came to a forced halt beneath the stairs, her bag in her hands. And as he finally came up beside her, she raised the bag to cover her face and sank into a crouch.

"Mari…"

"I'm so sorry!" She practically yelled, which probably wasn't helpful. Especially not with her face still pushed against the back of her bag.

"Mari, it's okay." He'd crouched down beside her, both of them doing a fair job at ignoring the student body moving behind them. "I'm fine. Really."

"I'm so _stupid_ …"

"You're not!" He sighed. "This is why I didn't want Nino to say anything…"

"Why?" Still keeping the bag up as a shield, she peered to the side, where he was watching her. "Because you hate me now?"

"No! That's…" He sighed. "Mari…"

"I understand…"

He laughed. "I don't hate you. I told you, I could never hate you." Reaching up, he delicately pulled her bag away, Marinette only allowing it because she didn't dare fight him. "I didn't want him to say anything because I knew it'd upset you. I'm fine, really."

She pouted. "Nino said you have bruising…"

His cheeks flushed with red. "Well, yeah, but… it'll go away, just like regular bruises do. Or that's what the doctors said, anyway. I'm _fine_."

"You didn't want to run this morning…"

"Okay, well, I _will be_ fine." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be upset."

"Please don't hate me…"

" _Mari_ …" He huffed. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to know." He squeezed her shoulder a bit more. "Look, you can't just assume I'm going to hate you every time something happens. I _don't hate you_. I will never hate you. It was an accident and I'll be fine. I just have to take it easy for a few days. So, please, can we just… forget about it?"

"Y-You're not upset?"

"No, I'm not. Not at you, anyway. I mean, I'm upset just… generally. Because it was painful. And it's still sore. But whatever. No, I'm not upset."

"You're r-really okay?"

"Yes. Everything is in… working order."

A comment that only made Marinette more embarrassed. Yet, she was able to laugh a little bit, even as she reached up and cradled her forehead in her hand. He squeezed her shoulder again in turn, cracking a small smile.

"But hey," he murmured, leaning a bit closer. "At least I got the full Ladybug treatment. Only you could send someone to the hospital for something like this."

She groaned. "Not Chat Noir…"

"That makes it all the more fitting," he said, grinning wider.

Finding the guts to do so, she looked back up at him. "Did you really have to ask your dad to take you to the emergency room?"

"Ah, yeah…" He let her go, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I really started to panic for a little while. Probably the most awkward five hours I've ever spent with him." Because this wasn't the type of injury one wanted to add to a plethora of other issues.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize anymore," he said firmly. "It's done with. I mean it when I say I'd rather just forget the whole thing."

"Forget what?"

Both of them turning their heads over their shoulders, they saw Alya standing there, hands on her hips. Nino was nearby as well, though looked to be keeping a purposeful distance between himself and Alya.

"Forget that, ah…" Adrien slowly—very slowly—stood, Marinette sighing as she did the same.

"Forget that it's my fault Adrien had to go to the hospital," Marinette admitted sheepishly, head hanging.

Alya blanched. "What?!"

She would have told Alya eventually anyway. "I accidentally kicked him…" Not the total truth, but close enough.

"Girl, you didn't…"

"I did…"

Alya tried to contain her laughter, but it was a mostly failed endeavor.

"I thought you fell," Nino interjected.

"I was trying to spare Mari," Adrien said tightly. "Which is why I didn't want you to _say_ _anything_."

"Oh, that makes sense now…"

"Jeez, Marinette." Alya had come up beside her best friend. "I can't believe you kicked him."

"I didn't do it on purpose," she replied almost petulantly.

"Do we seriously have to keep talking about this?" Adrien asked through gritted teeth. "It's honestly not the fondest memory I could have made this weekend."

Marinette felt guilty all over again, despite knowing that wasn't what he wanted.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Alya said, sounding sincere despite how her words were laced with mirth. "I hope you're better soon."

Adrien nodded once. "Thank you."

"Hey, Marinette! Alya!" It was Rose who called to them, waving from where she was standing with Juleka. "Want to eat with us?"

"Sure!" Alya called, answering for them both.

"We'll meet you on the steps!" With that, they were walking away, Marinette doing her best to recover from the last two days worth of stress. Which eventually led her attention back to Adrien, who was wavering awkwardly with Nino.

"Well, we'll see you guys later…" Nino eventually started.

"Come to lunch with us!" Marinette blurted abruptly, gaze immediately falling to the floor. It was so stupid, being embarrassed. She'd literally spent Friday night and all of Saturday with Adrien—given him a onesie and fallen asleep beside him (curled up into him, whatever). There was no reason such things should make her nervous.

"Uh, I have a lunch detention," Nino muttered, Alya rolling her eyes as though she weren't surprised. "But thanks anyway."

"I'll go," Adrien said, grinning a bit as Marinette dared look up at him again. She smiled back, cheeks pinking slightly as she did. "On the steps, right?"

"Yup!" Alya nodded. Following, they all went to the locker room and split up, retrieving their lunches before heading outside. On the way—she finally calming a bit after the morning ordeal—Marinette's phone buzzed in her pocket.

_Adrien – Promise me something._

Pausing before the main doors, Marinette bit her cheek against her smile.

**Marinette – What?**

_Adrien – Next time something happens, don't freak out. You don't freak out when you hurt Chat Noir._

**Marinette – Chat Noir is silly. And wears a suit that makes him basically invincible.**

_Adrien – I'm silly too ;b_

**Marinette – Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I'll try not to get so upset…**

_Adrien – There's just no reason to, I promise. I'll never hate you, My Lady. So please don't ever think that._

**Marinette – I'll try :)**

_Adrien - =^.^=_

It was a lot easier said than done. It did neither of them any good, however, jumping to conclusions. But falling into old habits was easier than fighting them sometimes. He had a point though. He was Chat Noir and if an accident with him—before she'd known he was Adrien—had led to a hospital visit, she'd have felt bad, sure, but trusted that he'd understand. Adrien was literally the exact same. She trusted him with her life and her safety—she could trust him with other things too.

Like her feelings, maybe…

Heading outside, she saw that it wasn't just Rose and Juleka that were sitting on the steps, eating. Mylene and Ivan were there, as well as Kim and Max. They littered the steps in an uneven group, Marinette just in time to see Kim throwing a grape at Ivan, who bristled.

"You never change, do you?" she asked as she came upon them, plopping down above Kim.

"What do you mean, never change? My aim has gotten much better since we were kids."

"Your affinity for throwing food hasn't changed," she muttered.

"That's true," he replied, his next grape bouncing off her head. She glared at him.

"Marinette!" Max grabbed her attention as Alya took a seat to her left, one step down. "Did you download the new patch for Mecha Strike? They added a whole new layer to the ability slots!"

"Yeah, I played it yesterday," she said easily. "What did you pick?"

"Accuracy," he said, as if it were the clearly superior choice. "You?"

"Luck." She shrugged.

He frowned. "I heard luck is absolutely useless." Because he'd probably been perusing the online forums all day.

"Who knows?" Marinette shrugged. "It only came out yesterday."

"What did?" Adrien's voice drew Marinette's attention upward. He was standing behind her, looking down at the group with curiously furrowed eyebrows. Marinette smiled up at him, a look he returned before sitting down on her left.

"Uh, the new patch for Mecha Strike," Max replied quietly.

Marinette noticed, of course. The layer of hesitance that dropped over most of the group at Adrien's presence. Usually where he was, Chloe wasn't far behind, which made everyone wary. That, and he wasn't exactly known for casually coming to lunch. Waving good-naturedly as he walked to his car, maybe, but not actually joining them. But he'd hung out with most of them on Saturday and Marinette was sure they'd all adapt this time as well. Adrien, Max, and Kim had actually really hit if off previously, so she was hoping for a repeat of the same.

Thankfully, Adrien seemed completely oblivious to any awkwardness his presence may have procured.

"It came out yesterday," Marinette explained simply, acting quite as though Adrien being there was a normal and regular thing. If she was as popular as Alya said, then she had to use her power for good. "You probably didn't play it…" She swallowed back on her blush—for his sake mostly.

"No, I didn't," Adrien replied. "What did they change?" He was looking at Marinette, so she made a point of not looking back. Instead, she waved in Max's direction.

"Max knows more about it than I do." She left the comment open-ended, only peeking up a few seconds later to verify that her intents went according to plan. Which, of course, they did. It may have taken a second, but soon Max was scooting up beside Adrien with his computer open, the two of them talking and pointing at the screen.

Adrien fell into the group easily, what with there being a certain blonde nowhere around.

Grinning, Marinette looked at Alya, who grinned back and knowingly rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Marinette." Kim had reached up and grabbed her ankle, before yanking her forward just a bit. She threw another glare at him. "You're gonna come watch me and Alix race on Thursday, right?"

"Why? Are you two competing again?" she asked dryly, not the least bit surprised. They'd been going at each other since they were little—this was a bi-weekly occurrence.

"She said she could beat me from your parents bakery to the Eiffel Tower and back."

"That's a pretty long stretch," Alya said, chuckling. "I don't think you could sprint that whole way."

"It's not about sprinting, Alya," Kim said knowingly. "It's about stamina. Which I have and Alix doesn't. So you coming or not? I need someone to raise the flag and seeing as you live right there."

"She'll be there," Alya assured. "I'll come too. I love watching you get your ass beat."

"Alya!" Rose gasped. "Don't _swear_."

"Yeah!" Adrien said, sounding far too aghast to be serious. "Watch your language. That's no way for a young lady to talk."

"You'd know all about how young ladies should talk, huh?" Marinette asked him, grinning just a bit.

"I'm very well educated on many subjects, My- Ma-Marinette." He cleared his throat and Marinette cast him a warning look.

" _Marinette's_ the one you should be worried about. She's always had a potty mouth," Kim said teasingly, Marinette's shoulders dropping—she knew exactly where this conversation was going. "My mom still tells the story of how you came into daycare singing the 'dammit' song when you were two."

"The 'dammit' song?" Alya questioned.

"Yeah. Guess she heard some adult say it," Kim explained. "For two weeks, whenever she entered a room, she'd either scream 'dammit' at the top of her lungs or start singing a song about it."

"Blame my father," Marinette said simply.

"Wait, how long have you two known each other?" Adrien asked, gesturing between Kim and Marinette.

"Since we were, like, one or something," Kim replied. "We went to Asian daycare together."

"Asian daycare…?" Adrien looked perplexed, yet interested.

"It was _not_ Asian daycare," Marinette corrected. "Your mom had just started a daycare and my parents were the first ones to bring their kid."

"Which made it Asian daycare," Kim defended. "It was just you and me."

"Until two weeks later when Alix showed up," Marinette made sure to point out.

"But those first two weeks," Kim waggled his finger knowingly. "Lots of Asian-ness going on. Lots of Asian _secrets_." Marinette rolled her eyes—like he actually remembered any of that.

"Have Alix and Kim really been like this with one another that long?" Alya asked, looking to Marinette for verification. Because Kim was most definitely not a reliable source.

"Pretty much."

"Wow." Alya threw a devious grin Kim's way. "That's a long time. You two are made for each other."

"What?" Kim asked stupidly.

"Oh don't worry," Marinette assured. "They got married in the third grade."

"Match made in heaven."

"Oh my god, don't say that," Kim groaned. "That's gross. Besides," he looked accusingly at Marinette, "you and Ivan got married in third grade too."

"I know." Marinette waved at Ivan. "How you doin,' sweetie?"

"Can't complain," he said simply, not even bothering to look up from his sandwich. "Got myself an awesome mistress."

Mylene "awed" and snuggled up to him.

"I still think Alix and Kim will end up together. My new OTP," Alya said, much to Kim's moaning displeasure.

"You know who _my_ OTP is?" Rose asked, clapping her hands together as she stared dreamily up at the sky. "Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Marinette choked on the juice she'd been drinking. Coughing, she spit it up all over the steps, Kim shying away before he got hit. Alya was slapping her back a moment later, Marinette punching herself in the chest as she continued to hack.

"You okay?" Alya asked a second later.

"Yeah, just…" Marinette took a gasping breath. "Went down the wrong way." Thankfully, her blush was hidden behind the typical redness that flushed one's face when choking. Taking deep breath after deep breath, she gathered herself, not even daring to look Adrien's way to see how he'd faired. But she should have known it'd be much better than she.

"What are you talking about, Rose?" Adrien asked once it'd been made clear that Marinette would live. "Ladybug can do way better than Chat Noir." His tone was clearly joking, or supposed to be, but it drew her eyes nonetheless. Yet, he wasn't looking back at her, his attention instead focused almost too intently on Rose.

"Chat Noir is so cool though…" Rose murmured.

"Ladybug's way cooler than he is," Adrien replied.

"No she's not," Marinette finally interjected, frowning as she did.

"Uh, yeah she is," Alya cut in. "I mean, Chat Noir is plenty awesome, don't get me wrong, but nobody's got anything on Ladybug." A comment that didn't help Marinette any, especially when Adrien finally looked her way.

The expression on his face, however, was unreadable. And not simply because she couldn't comprehend. Rather, he looked at her with blinking, blank green eyes, the rest of his face passive. Not like Chat Noir _or_ Adrien. No, it was like something else entirely.

Like he was wearing a mask.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are both equally cool," Rose defended. But Marinette hardly registered the comment. She was too busy staring at Adrien, waiting for something, anything, to cross his face. But nothing did, and that was almost too much for her.

She didn't get it, what it meant. If it meant anything.

Maybe it didn't. Maybe that was the whole problem.

It was this thought that spurred her to look away. Snapping her head around, she stared down at the concrete steps for just a moment, her friends' voices drowned out by the heaviness of her confusion. And of Adrien's presence beside her.

"Uh, I forgot," she said suddenly, totally unaware of what path their discussion had taken. "I need to return a book to the library." Not a lie, but hardly something needing to be done in that particular moment.

Not caring who heard the excuse, or what they had to say in response, she got to her feet. No longer possessing any appetite, she turned and dumped her leftover lunch in a nearby trashcan before heading inside.

She felt oddly numb—almost like she'd been rejected. Which was stupid because Adrien had probably only been covering for a comment that had made them both uncomfortable. But still, he'd brushed off the idea of Ladybug and Chat Noir being together as if it were nothing.

Which might have been what had left her so despondent were it not for the way he'd done it.

Chat Noir not good enough for Ladybug? Why would he say something like that? They were partners, weren't they? And there were plenty of other ways he could have disagreed with the sentiment. Which was what left her so baffled. What had he meant by saying such a thing?

Did he really believe that? Or maybe she was just looking too far into it. He'd probably just said the first thing he could to alleviate the embarrassment only the two of them could have been aware of. As far as Marinette was concerned, there was no way Chat Noir—Adrien—couldn't be good enough.

Maybe she was more focused on being his friend, but her crush hadn't gone away. Yet, perhaps this really did mean he didn't feel that way about her. That his flirtations as Chat weren't meant to be taken seriously (which she'd already kind of assumed). Or he'd just been appropriately dodging the subject.

She didn't know. The only thing she _did_ know, really, was that it troubled her.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Marinette Dupain-Cheng." That voice didn't make her feel any better. Sighing, Marinette only quickly wondered if she should keep walking to her locker or stop to give Chloe the time of day. She supposed that, if she did keep going, Chloe would just follow.

Might as well face her.

Turning, Marinette spotted the blonde stomping her way, already looking angry.

"What do you want, Chloe?" she asked flatly.

"I'm going to get right to the point," she snapped, once she was standing right in front of Marinette. Sabrina trailed behind her as well, carrying two lunches as she stared uneasily between them. "You need to stay away from Adrien."

Marinette's gaze narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. "What?"

"You heard me. Don't act like you didn't," she replied, reaching out and pointing sharply to Marinette's chest. "Stay away from Adrien."

Marinette really wasn't in the mood to deal with this. Between the stress of that morning and lunch, she was about on the edge. Fighting an imaginary battle with Chloe over a boy wasn't exactly on her priority list. Mostly because there was nothing to fight about. Adrien could very well choose his own company—something Chloe didn't seem to understand.

"I'll hang around whoever I want to," Marinette said simply. "So buzz off."

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you however I want to."

"You really think that's a good idea?"

"Why? It's not like I'm afraid of you. Or your father. Go bother someone else."

Chloe growled. "Stay _away_ from Adrien."

"No," Marinette said, shrugging as she did.

"He doesn't need someone like you polluting his good social standing," Chloe hissed, leaning a bit too close as she did. "You and him are on completely different levels."

One of Marinette's eyebrows rose skeptically. "And I suppose you're on the same level as he is?" she asked smartly. "Please. If there's anyone 'polluting' his social standing, it's you."

"Hardly." Chloe dared wear a knowing smile. "I'm the mayor's daughter—the princess of Paris. Everybody _adores_ me. While you're some dirty baker's daughter. Who are you to compare to that?"

"Okay, one, you're not a princess—unless it's the spoiled kind," Marinette made clear, holding up one finger at a time. "Two, I'm not dirty and neither is my parents' bakery." That was the last rumor she needed being spread around. "And three, _nobody_ adores you. You're a huge part of Adrien's problem."

"Hardly. I'm the only thing protecting him from pathetic fangirls like you. _I'm_ his best friend."

Marinette scoffed. " _Nino_ is his best friend, Chloe, not you. And he doesn't need 'protecting.' All you've ever done is drive people away from him. The reason he doesn't have very many friends isn't because he's 'above' everyone else. It's because you hang around with him and nobody can stand you."

"Everybody _loves_ me."

"Sure, Chloe. Whatever lets you sleep at night." Sighing, Marinette went to turn, if only to forcefully end the conversation. But, of course, Chloe couldn't let anything go.

"Stay _away_ from him," she snarled.

"No. Adrien and I are friends and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You really think that?"

"Uh, yeah, I do."

Chloe got right up in her face, Marinette actually rearing back a bit. "I could _ruin_ you, Marinette. I could tell him all sorts of things about you, until he'd never want to take a step near you again."

"Go ahead and try," Marinette replied, hardly taking the threat to heart. "He won't believe you. Nobody would. Everyone knows you're a liar." Not as bad as, say, Lila, but most people knew to take everything Chloe said with a grain of salt. But of everyone, she knew Adrien wouldn't buy a single word. Or, if he did, he'd ask her—Marinette—about it before acting on it.

"He'd believe me," she hissed. "We've known each other since we were kids. He trusts me explicitly."

Marinette almost laughed. "Hardly, Chloe. Tell him whatever you want, he'll _never_ believe you."

"He will."

"No, he won't," Marinette said with an air of certainty even Chloe had to acknowledge. "Just let it go. You can't keep him all to yourself—he's not some model doll you get to hoard. He's a person—someone who wants more friends than just you. Not that I blame him—you're a pretty terrible friend to have."

"Excuse me? I'm an awesome friend."

Marinette laughed—she had to. Really, she was fresh out of patience. "No you're not. You're a horrible person, let alone any sort of friend. You're nasty to everyone, you're spoiled, you lie. You're downright cruel, Chloe. Nobody. Likes. You."

Chloe's teeth were gritted. " _Everyone. Adores. Me_."

"No. They don't."

"Shut your mouth, Marinette."

"Make me."

" _I hate you_!"

"Good. I'm _glad_."

Snarling, Chloe's hands were balled into fists at her sides, foot stomping petulantly. Like a child who wasn't getting what she wanted, she threw a fit, Marinette unable to stop her eyes from rolling. Which, obviously, only made Chloe angrier. But none of her threats had had any affect on Marinette, who'd long since stopped cowering in Chloe's presence. The only one their self-proclaimed queen couldn't control.

Perhaps it'd only been a matter of time before she'd lost it. Maybe Marinette should have seen it coming.

But she didn't.

And so, when Chloe raised her hand and lashed out, Marinette was defenseless. With a harsh "smack," Marinette's head snapped to the side. The room spun for just a moment, if only resulting from the impact, and painful warmth blossomed on her cheek.

She could feel something scalding on her lips, something painful.

Blinking, blue eyes wide, Marinette slowly turned back. Chloe, who still had her hand raised, was breathing hard, expression contorted into an ugly glare. But what drew Marinette's more acute attention, despite her shock, were Chloe's nails.

That was when the pieces really started to fall into place. Reaching up, Marinette pressed her fingers to the corner of her lips. The spot was warm, and wet, and pain zinged through her upon contact.

She was bleeding.

At the door, multiple gasps had left the lips of a few watching. A few who had heard them arguing, no doubt, and come in just in time to witness Chloe's assault.

That's what it was, Marinette eventually realized. Chloe had slapped her, one of those long nails catching on her lip and leaving a bloody scratch in its wake.

Like a pot of water that had just reached the boiling point, Marinette's rage rose up from her stomach. Until her own lips were pulling into a snarl, gaze turning to a glare so intense that it had Sabrina shrinking away.

Not that Chloe knew how to take a hint.

Even as her lips formed around the words, Marinette knew what Chloe was saying. "You _bitch_."

As if she hadn't needed just one more thing to push her over their edge.

Hand balling into a fist, Marinette gave into the red. With skill and accuracy that had long since become habitual, she raised her fist, pulled back, and let it fly.

With a satisfying crack, her knuckles collided with Chloe's face. Pushing on with perfect form, Marinette didn't hold back one bit. Rather, she swung through the whole motion, taking a single step forward as Chloe fell back.

The whole gesture felt like a satisfying wave, Marinette still pumping with adrenaline even as Chloe stumbled to the floor. Collapsing back on her butt with a single, unforgiving bounce, Chloe's eyes rolled, Marinette watching without a shred of sympathy as blood began to dribble out her nostrils.

On the other side of the room, another round of gasping left all those who'd come to watch the spectacle.

" _Marinette Dupain-Cheng!_ " Her whole name used once again, but this time not by Chloe. Turning her head quickly over her shoulder, Marinette saw Miss Bustier standing there, appearing completely scandalized by what had just transpired. And then, if only to make matters worse, Chloe had overcome her shock and begun sobbing on the floor, holding her face.

Marinette sighed.

"To the principle's office! Both of you! Now!" Miss Bustier instructed, pointing directly to the stairs. Shoulders slumping, Marinette dragged her feet as instructed, leaving Chloe to find her own way.

Shortly after, she was suspended for a week.

In Principal Damocles' defense, he did try to get her off with a warning. But Chloe was so overly dramatic and, well, bleeding so profusely, that he'd had to give in to some kind of punishment—despite the fact that Chloe had started it and was somehow getting off scot-free (except for what would later be diagnosed as a fractured nose). Really, a week's suspension wasn't all that bad—not with the theatrics Chloe had created. Between calling her father and demanding an ambulance, the whole thing turned into such an ordeal that Marinette's parents had to close the bakery to come to the school.

Chloe wanted her to be expelled, but Principal Damocles, and Miss Bustier, managed to convince the mayor that a week's suspension was more than enough punishment, especially after pointing out that Marinette was bleeding as well.

Needless to say, the day just kept getting worse and worse, Marinette's parents not the least bit impressed with her behavior when they finally got home. She tried to explain, but they both agreed that, while Chloe was out of line first, that didn't justify punching her in the face. The old "two wrongs don't make a right" idea. If it'd been self-defense, it'd have been different, but Chloe hadn't gone after her again, which meant Marinette's own actions had been committed out of spite.

They grounded her, which Marinette—still foul tempered from Chloe—had dared to argue with. That had escalated the argument further, especially when Marinette objected to them stopping her morning runs with Adrien. Apparently her father was quite sour over the sleepover still, and how closely cuddled they'd been in the morning, because he forbid her from having any sleepovers ever again.

So, she was grounded, suspended, had no friend privileges, no future sleepovers, and no phone.

She was cranky, to say the very least.

"It'll be okay, Marinette," Tikki tried to comfort when Marinette had been sulking silently, seething with leftover anger, in her desk chair for over an hour. "Once everything calms down, things will be better."

Maybe, maybe not, but that didn't make it any better in that moment. Her bedroom was too silent, she felt too cut off, and she would have given just about anything to have a justified excuse to turn into Ladybug. But, with things as they were, her parents would likely find her missing.

Probably better not to go out on patrol either.

Finally turning in her chair, she faced her computer, supposing she should be thankful she still had that. Opening a new internet browser and going directly to Facebook, she went to her chat windows and pulled up Alya first, quickly filling in her best friend on everything that had happened before then opening a new chat with Adrien.

She'd never actually talked to Adrien from Facebook before.

**Marinette – Hey. I can't do a patrol tonight. Too risky with parents so angry.**

_Adrien – That's okay. The doctor said I should stay away from "strenuous activity" for a few days anyway :)_

_Adrien – Are you okay?_

**Marinette – Yeah, I guess. I'm suspended for a week. And grounded. No friends, no phone. Plus, my lip is super swollen.**

_Adrien – I'm sorry, Bugaboo. If it's any consolation, I bet Chloe looks worse._

**Marinette – I guess that does help a little ;)**

_Adrien – I can't believe she actually slapped you. I know she doesn't like you, but I never would have thought she'd go that far._

**Marinette – Me neither. And I guess I only made it worse…**

_Adrien – She deserved it :(_

**Marinette – You really think so?**

_Adrien – She slapped you and called you a bitch. I'd punch her too._

**Marinette – Lol! I thought you and her were friends?**

_Adrien – Doesn't mean she doesn't deserve to be punched in the face._

**Marinette – Touché. But we can't go running anymore :(**

_Adrien – Why? Because you're grounded?_

**Marinette – That, and it turns out my dad's not exactly your biggest fan.**

_Adrien – … Oh._

_Adrien – :/_

**Marinette – I think I'll be able to talk to him tomorrow. My mom too. I've never been a bad kid, so I think that—once they're less angry—they won't be so strict about friends and stuff. It was mostly Chloe's fault anyway. Usually they're really cool about most things.**

_Adrien – Doesn't exactly explain why your dad doesn't like me._

**Marinette – Uh, he said something about "cuddling up on the couch, stupid sleepovers, completely inappropriate."**

_Adrien – I wouldn't exactly call that "cuddling."_

**Marinette – I know. He's just worried, I think.**

_Adrien – I haven't done anything._

**Marinette – He knows that. But we've always been really close and I think he's, like, uncomfortable with me getting older? And liking boys? Like, normal dad stuff?**

_Adrien – Oh, la la, Mari. Like boys, do you? :3_

**Marinette – Just in general. Don't think you're special, Kitty.**

_Adrien – Me-owch._

**Marinette - ;b**

**Marinette – But yeah, it might be in your best interests to avoid the area for a while.**

_Adrien – I'm not going to avoid you. I haven't done anything wrong. Tell me when your parents let you go running again and I'll come in and get you just like usual._

**Marinette – Adrien…**

_Adrien – What? Am I supposed to just stand around outside and wait for you? No. That's weird. And disrespectful. Even if your dad doesn't like me, I can still come in to get you. Not like I'm afraid of him or something._

She smiled.

**Marinette – So chivalrous.**

_Adrien – Damn right._

Tapping her fingers on her desk, Marinette stared down at her keyboard, abruptly hit by a feeling of lethargic regret. If she hadn't punched Chloe, she'd be looking forward to a patrol with Chat later that very night. Well, maybe not, since he was injured. But still, none of that changed the fact that she was downed at not being able to stick to their schedule.

Not so much because they needed to patrol (although they did—they were now missing two patrols in a row), but because of… something else. She didn't quite know how to describe it, or if the feeling was even real—if it was simply her crush on Adrien coming to the forefront, or something else. Yet, more and more, it seemed like something separated from her own feelings. Something like a physical pull on her that always made her think of him.

She'd actually had a few night's worth of trouble sleeping the last week—because she'd been too busy thinking about him. Before they'd revealed one another, she'd gone to bed peaceful, hoping for dreams of Adrien. But that didn't happen so much anymore.

It was… well, strange, really.

"Tikki?" she asked, putting her attention on the kwami snacking beside her mouse. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Marinette." The little fairy grinned up at her, putting her cookie aside to give her host her complete and total attention.

"It's about… about the connection between Ladybug and Chat Noir. I've noticed lately that I- I like it… better… when he's nearby. Is that- Is that normal?"

"I don't understand." Tikki's little forehead wrinkled, bulbous head cocking to the side. "You and Chat Noir are friends. Wouldn't you always like it if he was around?"

"I- No, I don't mean like that." Unconsciously, Marinette reached up and laid her hand on her chest, gripping at her shirt. "I've always liked Adrien, but this is different than that. It's like if we're apart for too long, I get anxious. But not, like, because I like him. It's like my body gets anxious." Was she even making sense? She didn't know. "Is it because of the miraculous?"

Tikki was thoughtful. "Chat Noir and Ladybug have always been partners—Plagg and I are connected, in a manner of speaking. By past experiences together. We're part of the same whole. But the miraculous doesn't take away your will. Any side effects are able to be controlled and aren't harmful."

"But there are side effects?" Marinette asked, voice quiet.

"In a way, there could be," Tikki explained, abruptly sounding as though she were being very careful with her words. "But all Ladybugs and Chat Noirs are different. Side effects may manifest in you that never did in others before you."

"Oh…"

"I'm sorry, Marinette. Maybe what you're feeling is because of me, but it also might not be."

An answer that really did her no good at all, as it gave explanation to nothing. Rather, it just made her more frustrated. The more she thought on it, the more anxious she began to feel. Like the very idea that she wasn't going to see Adrien that night, and for days following, was weighing on her more than anything else (which was ridiculous when considering the day she'd had). Her thoughts kept tripping back to Friday night, to having him there and how… comfortable that had been—in this removed, simple way. As if, once she'd experienced it, she'd become… addicted. But not blatantly. More like this underlying thrumming that got worse when she was faced with confronting it. Or, rather, when Adrien's absence made her acknowledge it.

The more she thought on it, the more she felt that it wasn't due to her crush. That it was something else.

Or maybe that was simply her way of justifying it.

"You could ask Adrien," Tikki added quietly. "Maybe he's dealing with something similar. Sometimes Ladybugs and Chat Noirs work in sync."

"Maybe…" And then she'd know if it was just her or not. Yet, that required a bit of courage. What if he wasn't dealing with it too? What if it really was her own feelings? If she asked him and he wasn't like her, then was that him basically rejecting her? Like at lunch?

Why did she have to read so deeply into everything?

Looking back at her computer, she considered. It would be nice to know she wasn't alone. This was why Master Fu had them reveal themselves, wasn't it? So they could work together. So they could _grow_ together.

She didn't have to admit to anything. She could be… subtle.

Part of her—the anxious part—told her to try.

**Marinette – Can I ask you something? Something kind of… weird?**

_Adrien – Of course, My Lady._

He was there, replying right away. That helped some.

**Marinette – Do you ever feel… anxious?**

Unsure what to make of her own question, Marinette put her attention on the window—on the orange glow of the setting sun—and forced herself to stay calm. Breathe in and out; keep a steady heartbeat. This conversation was harmless. She was fine.

The telltale ding of his reply snapped her focus back.

_Adrien – Well, sure. Doesn't everybody though?_

Fingers drumming, Marinette considered what to type with the utmost caution.

**Marinette – Not like that. Related to, like, Ladybug and Chat Noir.**

His ellipses danced, blinking in and out, as though he were typing, then deleting, then typing again.

_Adrien – You mean about Hawkmoth?_

A very simple question for how long he'd taken to answer.

**Marinette – No, not like that. Like, just, general, weird anxiety.**

_Adrien – Just… about nothing? :/_

**Marinette – No, not about nothing. About, like, not**

**Marinette – being**

**Marinette – Never mind.**

_Adrien – Not being what?_

**Marinette – It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything.**

_Adrien – Mari…_

**Marinette – I'm just being silly. It's nothing :)**

And yet her whole heart felt like it was straining in her chest, wanting to burst out of her and just… go.

He was typing again, those bouncing, teasing dots going up and down, disappearing, reappearing. Up and down, up and down.

_Adrien – I think…_

_Adrien – I think I know what you mean._

Marinette swallowed hard, fingers hovering over the keys. Ultimately, she forced herself to wait.

_Adrien – I don't really want to miss the patrol. Or running in the mornings. And I don't want you to miss school. I feel… more comfortable, when you're around…_

_Adrien – Is that what you meant?_

_Adrien – Please tell me that's what you meant._

Marinette wasn't sure which was more relieving—that she wasn't alone in this or that she hadn't been the one to have to say it.

**Marinette – That's what I meant.**

_Adrien – Oh, good._

_Adrien – I mean, yeah. Okay. Glad I'm not the only one, lol._

**Marinette – Me too :)**

_Adrien – Must be a miraculous thing, right?_

**Marinette – Tikki said it could be.**

_Adrien – I'm glad she's helpful. Plagg isn't :/_

**Marinette – But he's so cute!**

_Adrien – You're not helpful either._

**Marinette – ;b**

_Adrien – So… what should we do?_

_Adrien – About it?_

_Adrien – About… the weird thing?_

**Marinette – Well, what can we do…?**

It took him a few moments to respond.

_Adrien – I could just… come see you later, if that's okay? Maybe that will help?_

Despite herself, Marinette grinned, biting her cheek to stop the full-blown smile from stretching across her face (plus, that would hurt). Her whole body was buzzing with excitement, the anxiety fading as she considered that she might see Adrien later after all. That he was going to come, okay, really not that far, to see her. It made all that had happened that day seem a little less important.

**Marinette – Are you sure you're up to it?**

She really, really hoped he was.

_Adrien – You're literally, like, one long, connected rooftop away. I think I can manage._

**Marinette – I would like that, then. I think.**

_Adrien – Me too :)_

**Marinette – Just wait till after nine though, when my parents are asleep.**

_Adrien – Sure thing._

Called down shortly after for one of the most awkward dinners Marinette had ever had the pleasure of sharing with her father (as it was his night), she retreated back up to her room as soon as was acceptable. Slipping on a pair of pajama pants and a tank-top, she settled on her bed to sketch, checking the time far more often than she had reason to.

By the time eight-thirty rolled around, she was exasperated with waiting and popped her balcony door/skylight. Climbing up, she took her sketchbook with her before settling down on her lawn chair. Tikki trailed her up, flitting around the plants as Marinette waited. The seconds ticked by slowly, each minute seeming an eternity. By the time eight forty-five ticked up on her analog watch, she was sure it'd been another whole hour.

Thankfully, Chat Noir wasn't too interested in exact times.

Just as Marinette had leaned her head over the back of her chair and sighed, she heard the familiar tapping of his boots. Snapping to attention, she watched him bound gracefully down upon her banister, tail held high and flicking lazily as he balanced on the metal bar with both hands and feet. He grinned, cat eyes sparkling in the limited light, and Marinette couldn't help returning the expression.

"Why, a stray cat seems to have wandered onto my balcony," she teased, setting her sketchpad aside. "What could such a mangy beast be doing here?"

"Why do you insist on calling me mangy?" he asked, stretching one leg down onto the floor before the rest of him followed. "I'm not mangy. I shower every day and even wash behind my ears." Leaning back against the railing, he crossed his feet at the ankles, still grinning.

"I'm impressed," Marinette replied with feigned awe. "I didn't think kitties liked water."

"What can I say?" Chat flipped his hair dramatically. "I'm exceptional."

Laughing, Marinette sat forward, crossing her legs atop her chair as she did. "So what was everyone at school saying about what happened?" She halfway cringed at the question, unsure whether she wanted to actually hear the answer or not.

"Well," Chat cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, "by the time I was walking home, people were already talking about how that 'Dupain girl jumped on and beat the living crap out of Chloe.' So… basically the truth."

"I did not jump on her…" Marinette said, frowning. "I punched her once."

"And it was very impressive, My Lady," Chat said, clapping quietly—mockingly. "You had excellent form."

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's the part people are going to be focusing on," she said, pouting.

"If it's any consolation, most people were impressed. I think Kim's exact words were 'wow, who knew Marinette was such a badass.'"

"And what'd you say?" she dared to ask.

"Well, I looked at him and said ' _I_ knew she was.'"

"That's not what I meant."

He huffed. "I defended you, of course. Not that there were a whole lot of people saying anything against you. Most were glad. Apparently Chloe has years of torment she's doled out on the student body?" He shrugged.

"You could say that…"

"Kind of makes me embarrassed to have been her friend so long."

Marinette cocked an eyebrow. "You're not friends with her now?"

"I don't know." Crouching down, Chat circled one of his claws over the wood floor, before beginning to scrape small bits of dirt out of the cracks. "She slapped you and called you a bitch. I'm not sure that's something I should gloss over."

"You've known her a lot longer than you've known me. And, I mean, what she did is more than usual, but not totally surprising. It is Chloe—she was bound to lose it on someone eventually."

"That's no excuse," he muttered. "And it doesn't matter how long I've known her—that kind of behavior is unacceptable. I'd much rather be friends with you anyway." He grinned up at her. "Well, maybe I don't have a choice."

He'd been joking, of course, but—for whatever reason—the comment still stung. "We always have a choice…" Marinette murmured.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's not- I was just kitten around, My Lady."

"I know." She smiled a bit. "Don't mind me. I'm still… recovering from earlier." She waved off the comment—as though waving off the entire day. The whole thing had been one snowballing fiasco after another and part of her was exhausted. It'd been her excitement over seeing Chat that had kept her from curling up in bed. But now that he was there, the weariness was sinking in.

Wrapping her bare arms around herself, she shivered.

"Mari…" Chat stood, coming closer and reaching out a clawed hand. He slipped it over her shoulder, hovering beside her as she looked up. "You should go back inside, or get a jacket. It may be spring, but it's not that warm."

She pursed her lips. "Don't baby me."

"Then don't come outside without proper outerwear," he countered.

"I don't want to go inside." He was out there and she was afraid that if she retreated, he'd do the same.

"Too bad. C'mon." He nodded toward the door in the floor. "It's just going to get colder."

"A-Are you gonna leave?" she dared to ask, still refusing to get up.

"I- No, I wasn't planning on it. I just got here." He blinked down at her, looking relatively perplexed even under his mask. "Unless you… want me to leave."

Marinette shook her head. "You can stay." She didn't specify how long or why. She wasn't sure she had an answer for either. Rather, eyes trained on the floor, she finally got to her feet and shuffled to the door. Pulling it up, she dropped down through the skylight, landing lightly on her mattress before stepping back out of the way.

Just in time for Chat to drop in after her.

He closed the door as he did, Marinette watching with wide eyes as—just before he landed on her bed—his feet sparked green. His suit shocked and disappeared in a blinding flash, leaving Adrien standing before her instead of Chat Noir.

Plagg zipped out of his ring in the same moment, coming to float between them with a groan.

"Abuse of power," he lamented, Marinette holding up her finger to shush him. "Where's my cheese?" Thankfully, the kwami had gotten appropriately quiet.

"There's some on the desk," Marinette whispered, Plagg becoming a black blur as he swished off. Giggling just a bit at the way Adrien rolled his eyes, Marinette dropped atop her mattress, crossing her legs as she did. Adrien did the same a moment later, the two of them facing one another as Marinette smoothed her comforter self-consciously.

"It didn't put you out, coming here, did it?" she asked, taking in his apparel. Not too different than hers—sweats and a t-shirt. No shoes, no socks. His hair, however, was perfect once more, Marinette finding it amusing that it was Plagg who mussed it.

"Of course not." He grinned. "I was just sitting at home, alone, listening to Plagg pig out. Like usual."

"Okay." Reaching up, she aimed to ruffle his hair, but he saw her coming. Raising his arm, he blocked her attempt, glaring at her as he ducked away.

"Why do you do that?" he asked sourly. "I do take a bit of time to do my hair in the morning. But not so you can mess it up." Her arm was propped on his, hand forming a claw as she struggled to reach his golden head.

"Chat Noir doesn't have perfect hair," she reasoned.

"Well, Adrien does."

"So shallow."

"I'm a model. What do you expect?"

Putting a bit more weight behind it, she pushed against him, watching with a devious grin as he sank back away from her scrabbling fingers.

"No one else is going to see you," she assured.

"That's not the point."

Leaning forward, she forced him to bend all the way back, taking a great deal of glee out of the victory when he was finally lying back on her mattress. Nowhere else to go. Eyes closed as though it were painful, he turned his face into her cat pillow as she finally got her hand in his hair.

As if to punish him for struggling, she roughed up his mane far worse than she had to. Until the part was completely uneven and the chunks were fluffing up erratically. He batted at her lightly, trying to fend her off, but the attempts were futile.

Having crawled up between him and the banister, she sat down again, only stopping her attack once the damage was irreparable. At least, not without a mirror.

"You're terrible," he muttered into her pillow, still facing away from her as his body relaxed into a lazy, elongated pile atop her mattress. She poked him a few times in the side, until he got fed up and turned over.

Lying on his back, he glared at her, only a few centimeters between them (all that was really possible atop her bed). She giggled—because his hair really did look ridiculous—but stifled it when he frowned.

"I'm sorry, Kitty," she said, reaching out to try and rearrange what few locks she could. "I didn't know you were so sensitive about your appearance."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I made no such implication. I'm a fashion designer, remember? I'm quite well-aware of how important physical appearance can be." Her arranging of his hair had turned into petting at some point, her fingers running through the locks as she brushed them back. It didn't look too bad actually, combed against the top of his head.

"Then why do you make me suffer?" he whined.

"Because you make it so easy," she teased, causing him to groan.

A second later, he reached up toward her, his hand delicately taking hold of her chin before he turned her head just a bit—so the limited light ignited her swollen lip. Thumb bending in, he ran the tip along the bottom of the injury, Marinette flinching slightly.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "She really cut you good." His frown had deepened, become serious, and Marinette could have sworn she saw a bit of anger flash through his gaze.

"It'll heal fine," she guaranteed, gripping lightly at his arm so as to pull his fingers from her chin. "The scab's gonna hurt though." Lip scabs always did.

"Well, at least you knocked her good," he said. "Maybe she'll think twice next time."

"I hope there isn't a next time," she replied quietly, his arm propped in her lap. She continued to simply hold it there—to feel his heat under her fingertips. The backs of his knuckles brushed her shirt and Marinette had the sudden urge to take his hand in hers. To weave their fingers together.

She wasn't sure if she was thankful for an interruption or not.

"Marinette?!" It was her father, Marinette jumping as she whipped around to stare down at her door. Adrien immediately retreated, becoming as flat on the bed as possible. Thankfully, no one had actually come in. Just tapped on her door.

"Lights out. You're grounded. Go to bed."

"O-okay," she yelled back, her heart racing inside her chest. But once she heard the familiar sound of him tapping back down the stairs, she relaxed. Turning back, she reached up on the wall to her right, where she had another set of light switches. Flipping them down, the room was in darkness until she reached over and flicked on the tiny, square lamp sitting in the shelf at the head of the bed.

A warm glow ignited some of the shadows, Adrien blinking up at her from where he'd turned on his side. He had his hands tucked under his head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Should I…" His voice was quiet—barely above a whisper. "Should I go?"

A question Marinette hadn't wanted to consider. The "correct" answer was yes—she was grounded and had still somehow managed to smuggle a boy into her room. Yet, despite the logic of knowing she'd done wrong, it didn't feel that way. She didn't want him to leave. Perhaps it wasn't "correct," having him there, but it felt right.

"You don't… You don't have to," she murmured. "Not yet, anyway." She didn't dare look at him as she spoke, hoping the way her cheeks flushed wasn't too apparent in the shadows.

"Your parents won't come up here and find me?" he joked, cracking a small smile.

"No, probably not," she replied. "B-but you _can_ go, if- if you want to."

"I don't want to."

"Well, the skylight is unlocked, whenever you do… want to go…"

"I don't want to go, Mari."

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, barely brave enough to meet his gaze. "Okay…" She said the word only loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Okay. You can stay."

Stay as long as he wanted.

For a moment after that, she did nothing, her stomach twisting despite her own invitation. Yet, eventually, she knew her lack of action would make things awkward. And that was the last thing she wanted. Because then he would probably leave.

Huffing, her arm darted out and she flicked the lamp off again, leaving only the clouded moonlight through her windows to outline them. Pulling her blanket—her _side_ of the blanket—out from under her, she then scooted beneath it, heart pounding in her ears as she lay down. Once flat, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned to him.

He hadn't moved, his green eyes seeming to glow in the dim lighting. Blinking twice, the two of them remained silent before he finally shifted. Slipping his side of the blanket from beneath his own body, he drew it up until he was covered, lastly reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out his phone, holding it only a few centimeters from his face as he typed at it. The blue glow ignited his features, causing Marinette's heart to speed up once again.

"What are you doing?" she eventually asked.

"Setting my alarm clock," he explained, finishing shortly after. Closing out the screen, he bent back and reached out, setting the phone on the shelf beside her lamp. "So that I get up with enough time to go home and get ready for school."

"Oh."

He'd tucked his arms back under his head, once again intercepting her gaze.

"Won't anyone wonder where you are?" she asked.

"No. They won't even know I'm gone." Shrugging against the sheets, he cracked a small grin that she could just barely see, Marinette returning with a small smile of her own. They stared at one another for a few seconds longer, before Marinette reached toward him.

She laid her finger on the bridge of his nose, tracing quickly down until she tapped the tip. "Goodnight, Kitty," she whispered, wrapping her arm around herself once again.

"Sweet dreams, My Lady."


	7. Part One - This Repeating Uncertainty

Swishing at her cereal with her spoon, Marinette kept her attention on her bowl. Beside her, Tom did the same, neither one of them having shared much eye contact since Monday. It was Wednesday as of then, and the first morning that Marinette had spent any significant time with her father since they'd argued on Monday. Which was likely what contributed to the tension between them.

Chasing a flake quietly around in her milk, she deliberated on what to say. Or, perhaps, on what to say first—because she had to say something. She realized her parents were disappointed in her and she sought some kind of resolution to that, as well as her father's feelings about Adrien.

Which was, perhaps, the more important variable to her—at least personally.

Two nights in a row Chat had come bounding across her balcony. Two nights she'd let him slink down and stay in her bed. All they'd done was sleep, but she knew her father wouldn't see it that way. Not that she had any intention of telling him. It was more important that she clear Adrien of guilt in general, not admit to any crimes.

If there were crimes at all. Honestly, she didn't see it that way. As far as she was concerned, what she and Adrien did—especially when it was, perhaps, the result of possessing a miraculous—was none of her parents' business. It was Ladybug and Chat Noir business, and that was something distanced from family. Whether she was young or not, their child or not, her duty as Ladybug was beyond their realm of control. Beyond their realm of understanding. And that meant whatever she and Adrien decided to do—decided they _needed_ to do—was her and his business only.

She was their daughter, but she'd also become something else. Someone that existed in a world outside theirs. Would they agree? No, perhaps not, but that was hardly the point.

The point, rather, was that she liked having Adrien close and if that meant he snuck into her bedroom a few nights a week, then that was how it was going to be. She liked having him there—having his warmth beneath her comforter, his easy breathing as he slept, even the way his breath wisped across her skin when he sighed in slumber. There was nothing nefarious about it. No bad intentions. It was simply comforting, having him there. Though they had yet to really discuss the topic, she hoped he felt the same way. That such was why he'd come back a second night.

And as the protectors of Paris, and two people that had never asked for anything in return, it didn't seem a crime to indulge in such harmless activities.

Marinette felt no guilt over it, just as she felt no guilt in hiding her goings-on as Ladybug from her parents. What went on between her and Adrien was no one else's concern unless they—she and he—wanted it to be.

Yet, still, she didn't want her father to dislike him. Especially when he had no concrete reasons to do so. But the subject was one she'd never broached before and so she didn't exactly know how to approach it.

What had happened between herself and Chloe, however, was easy enough to tackle—if she just had the courage to do so.

Finally dropping her spoon, she cleared her throat. "Dad…?"

"Yes, Marinette." He didn't look up as he spoke, but at least he didn't sound angry.

Marinette sighed. "Look, about- about what happened with Chloe… I know you and mom are disappointed that I hit her. And I understand why. Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't have retaliated. But it… it's not like she doesn't antagonize everyone, sometimes in the worst ways. And she did hit me first.

"Not that I'm trying to come up with excuses. I just want you both to… to understand that I wouldn't have hit her unless she really deserved it. She bullies everyone, Dad. And she tries to go after me especially. While I understand you not wanting me to fight and get in trouble, would you really have preferred I stand there and… and let her treat me that way?"

She dared look up at him then, honestly searching for some kind of answer to her question. But she didn't get one. Instead, it was her father's turn to sigh, his eyes closing as he pushed his bowl away.

"She used to just… push me around and get her way all the time," Marinette explained quietly, gaze falling to the side. "But she had no reason to treat me that way. And I don't think it's okay for her to get away with it. I don't… I don't want to give in to her." Ladybug and Alya had taught her the value of standing up for herself—of seeing strength in her own ability to stand on two feet.

"I don't want you to give in to her," Tom replied, finally looking her way. "Of course I want you to defend yourself, Marinette. And I know she bullies you—I've heard you complain about her for years. But it's also quite a shock to get a call saying your daughter got in a fight. Not exactly the kind of behavior parents feels comfortable encouraging."

"It's not like I get into fights every day…"

"I know," her father said, voice gentle. "And perhaps, in the moment, your mother and I were a little hard on you." Hand on the counter, he held it open, Marinette placing her own within his grasp without hesitation. "But even if your actions were justified, there were still consequences."

"I know."

"You were suspended."

"I know…"

"And I know it's not fair, but life isn't fair. And when we act in certain ways, we have to take that into consideration. Maybe it did feel good to punch Chloe," he grinned a bit, which gave her permission to do the same, "but what did it really accomplish?"

He had a point—Marinette knew he did. Chloe still came out on top. Nothing was going to change. It was more likely that Chloe would be even worse.

"If you'd held back, then she wouldn't have had anything to hold over you," Tom went on. "Now, don't get me wrong—I don't think there was any right decision to make—but it is worth considering what could have resulted from the alternative. Maybe nothing. Maybe she still would have gotten away with it. But, then again, maybe not."

"I understand."

"But," Tom gripped her hand a little tighter, "you're right. I don't want anyone pushing you around. Just… don't let your emotions dictate your actions."

That was twice she'd been told something similar. First Adrien about not "freaking out" and now her father. Though she usually had a pretty firm grasp on her emotions, perhaps she did get a little carried away sometimes. Like she had with her jealousy over Lila. Sometimes such things couldn't be helped—everyone made mistakes—but she also had a lot more on the line than others. She was Ladybug—she had to be vigilant.

She couldn't afford to lose control. Then she'd be no different than Chloe.

"I'll try to be better about that kind of thing," she agreed.

"Good." Releasing her hand, Tom reached up and caressed her hair and cheek. "I'm glad."

She cast him another grin, eyes flicking again to her plate as he let go. She pursed her lips, forcing herself to continue on despite how it seemed like the end of the conversation. It wasn't—not even close.

"Th-there's something else," she started a second later. "Um, I was wondering, c-could I… could I start running with Adrien in the mornings again?"

She dared look up, and was faced with her father's tightened displeasure.

"I suppose," he eventually agreed.

"Thank you. Um, I-I realize you don't like him very much, but, I promise, he's never done anything wrong. He's been a perfect gentleman. And we're- we're not like that anyway, him and I."

Her father released another sigh, this one greater than the last. "I know, Marinette. Your mother's right—he does seem like a very nice boy." Marinette fiddled with her fingers atop the counter. "But I've heard the way you talk about him," she flushed, "and I've seen the way you look at him."

"Dad…"

"Now, let me finish." He turned on his stool, facing her over the counter. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be together if he likes you too—I'm quite realistic about these sorts of things, believe it or not. But what caught me off guard was how fast you two seemed to… become close. It was very out of the blue, this… running thing you two have started, every day, and then wanting to have sleepovers. Dates I could handle, or even hanging out after school. But this seems a little different than that."

Well, it was. But she couldn't tell him that.

"I- We've always kind of been friends," she said, supposing that was true when Ladybug and Chat Noir were brought into the equation. "I've just gotten to know him a little better lately, that's all. We really are just friends."

"Friends or not, that isn't what this is about," Tom said calmly. "You want more from him than that."

"Dad…"

"Don't deny it." His tone remained gentle. "And while I think it's quite good of you to be trying so hard to be friends with him, you can't blame me for being worried."

"I'm not going to do something stupid," she said almost defensively.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he corrected. "I have the highest faith in your ability to make good decisions. You're a very smart girl and I wouldn't insult you by implying otherwise. It's the choices you _can't_ make that worry me."

Eyebrows furrowing, she made it quite clear that she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Marinette…" He took a deep breath. "There are a lot of ways to get hurt in the world we live in. Hurt in ways that we don't expect or see coming. Oftentimes, we don't even know it's happening until it's too late." Pausing, he glanced over her shoulder, to the family photo hanging on the wall. "I see a lot of your mother in you. A lot of her passion and vigor. You know, if it weren't for her, I never would have gotten this bakery going."

He glanced back, smiling just a bit. "She's strong, your mother. Stronger than me. And I think you have that same strength in you. But Sabine, she…" He pursed his lips, focus flicking to the counter. "There are things, secrets I suppose you could say, that your mother holds that I will never know. Never understand. It's her business and I know better than to pry, but those things—I know they've hurt her.

"I don't want to see you hurt in the same way she has been. Sabine is happy, I have the greatest faith in that, but there are things in her past she's never recovered from. Things that she never will recover from. I simply don't wish the same fate on you."

"Dad, I don't…" Marinette shook her head. Really, she had no idea how to interpret what he was saying, or even how she should react.

"Some hearts are fickle," he murmured, "and love easily. And perhaps that easiness leads them through highs and lows with greater vivacity than others. But there are some that… that only love a few times, and can be destroyed by a broken heart.

"Just be careful, Marinette. I have no desire to see your heart broken. Not as your mother's was."

Blinking, Marinette swallowed, unable to find a proper response. Of course, she knew her parents had lived before she'd been around. And there were likely many things about them she didn't know—would never know. But her father's speech mystified her. And scared her too, despite not knowing why.

"I'm not saying don't follow your heart," he continued. "But be wary of it. When we let our hearts lead the way, we sometimes blind ourselves simply because it's easier to believe what we want, rather than see reality. A little doubt, when managed properly, can be a great help, and keep you grounded long enough to find a good landing point, should you decide to fly."

Nodding, Marinette ran his words through her head a few times, memorizing them as best she could despite her inability to relate. She wasn't the thoughtless type that would disregard her parents simply because it was the teenage thing to do. She knew they both had her best interests, even if passions sometimes ran high enough that it took them a few days to talk about it.

"Okay," she muttered. "I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled, before leaning over and pulling her in for a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you."

**oOo**

"Well, it is, like, your third detention this week. And it's only Wednesday." Adrien said as much matter-o-factly, fully expecting the flat look Nino then gave him over the foosball table. "I'm just saying, not like Alya was exaggerating."

"Doesn't mean she had to say it like she did," Nino muttered, frowning. "I don't try to get detentions." They were pretty lazy with their back and forth of the ball at that point, until Nino got it into Adrien's pocket a second later.

"You don't exactly try not to get them either," Adrien countered.

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm always on your side, obviously," Adrien replied, deciding that maybe there was no point in retrieving the ball from the pocket. "But facts are facts, man."

Nino groaned, head hanging as he shuffled away from the foosball table and flopped down on Adrien's couch. Lips pooching to one side, Adrien watched him for a moment before making his way over and plopping down beside him. In the same moment, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"It's not my fault I'm no good at school," Nino mumbled, head propped on his fist as he leaned on the arm of the couch. "I'm not book smart like you and her are. It's just… not my thing."

Adrien frowned. "While I know you get frustrated with school, dude, you, like, never turn in any homework. That doesn't have anything to do with smarts." Pulling out his phone, Adrien glanced down at it only quickly, having to hold back his smile when he saw the message (because Nino probably wouldn't appreciate that).

**Marinette – Got my phone back :D**

"What's the point of doing it?" Nino asked, slumping. "I don't understand it half the time anyway. Turn it in or not turn it in, the result would be the same." Putting his phone back in his pocket, Adrien set his full attention back on Nino, frowning once more.

"Yeah, but, if you don't even try…"

"You don't get it," Nino said dejectedly. "I'm not good at school, man. And it's not like I'm gonna go to university or something. I got my beats and my camera and that's all I got—I'm not good for anything else." Flopping his hands down in his lap, Nino stared at the floor and looked, just, sad.

Adrien didn't know how else to describe it, really. He knew Nino struggled with school—both occasionally with the people and always the work. The former made them somewhat similar, albeit similar in different ways, but the latter was something Adrien knew nothing about. With as vigorously homeschooled as he'd been, he was years ahead of the public school curriculum—he was just repeating what he'd already learned. Not that it mattered. He hadn't gone to public school for the learning bit anyway.

But he did feel bad for Nino. Especially if his struggles were interfering with other things.

"Did you tell Alya that?" he asked quietly.

"I can't tell her that," Nino said sharply. "She's got all her shit together—all her ducks in a row. It's one thing for her to think I don't do my work because I'm lazy and quite another to admit it's hard. She really would drop me then. Not that there's much I can do to stop her anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not good enough for her, man. She's got these big university plans and all this stuff about travelling the world as a journalist and I just… I can't compete with that. I'll be lucky if I get a job DJ-ing at a club, let alone something bigger."

"You got on that show, and you do make really good beats," Adrien offered, trying to be encouraging despite not really know how to do so.

Nino smiled just a bit. "My beats are pretty sick." Yet, just as quickly as the expression was there, it was gone. "But what are the odds, really, that I'll make something of that?"

"Well, I mean, if you're good enough…"

"And lucky enough." Nino sighed. "Alya doesn't take me seriously, and I don't really blame her. She wants someone who's going somewhere—that's what she said, anyway. And if she doesn't think something is going to be worth her time, she doesn't bother with it." Nino side-eyed him. "That's one of the great things about her, actually."

"You really do like her, don't you?" Adrien asked quietly.

"Yeah. I mean, I knew she was cool, but I didn't realize just how cool until… But whatever. It's better if we just stay friends anyway."

"Yeah… that makes sense…" Adrien hadn't meant to sound so distant in response, but based on the look Nino gave him, he'd said a bit too much. "What?"

Nino's gaze narrowed. "What's going on with you and Marinette, anyway?"

"M-Mari?" Adrien blanched. "Nothing. We- We're just friends."

"Yeah, okay, but when are you gonna ask her out?"

" _What_?" Adrien's eyes got big. "I'm not going to."

"Dude, don't fuckin' mess with me, alright? I might not be good at school, but I'm not totally stupid. I see the way you look at her. Like she's an angel or something. I mean, she's cute, and I liked her once, but you look at her like she walks on water or something."

"Do not…"

"Dude."

"Look, Nino, it doesn't matter," Adrien said, glancing down at his lap. "Things between Mari and I are complicated."

"Sounds like a load of bullshit to me."

"Well, it's not." Adrien hadn't meant to snap, so he cast Nino an apologetic look afterward. "Mari and I are friends, okay? That's it. And that's all we'll probably ever be. I don't have any intention of asking her out."

"But why not, man?"

"Because I won't do anything—and I mean _anything_ —to jeopardize the friendship we have. She's a really good friend, but I don't think she feels that way about me." How she'd spit up her juice and choked at the mere mention of such on Monday had told him a lot.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure. I mean, c'mon, Nino. Until recently, she barely talked to me."

"Yeah, but… that _could_ be because…" Nino pursed his lips awkwardly.

"She could do way better than me," Adrien continued. "You think you have nothing worth giving to Alya? Please. At least you're good at _something_."

"Dude, you're good at _everything_."

"But passionate about nothing." Adrien sighed. The only thing he was passionate about was being a superhero, and Ladybug had him beat at that, no problem. "I'm only as good as practice gets you. I don't have talent for anything. I don't even know what I'm going to do when I graduate." He chuckled bitterly. "Probably more of the same. More of what I'm already doing."

"What? Modeling?"

"Sure. Why not?" Adrien shrugged.

"Do you like modeling?"

"I don't hate it." But he didn't love it either. Like everything in his life, it just was.

"There's got to be something you like to do," Nino deduced.

"Hmm," Adrien tapped his chin. "I like to play video games. And watch anime."

"Those are pretty great things to do," Nino agreed. "Not very productive though."

"Not really."

They both laughed.

"Dude, we're pathetic." Nino groaned, leaning his head over the back of the couch. "No girls, no plans. We're about as useless as they come."

"But hey," Adrien raised a knowing finger. "At least we're beautiful."

More laughter, before Adrien's phone buzzed in his pocket again. Pulling it out once more, he did allow himself a small grin at what he saw.

**Marinette – Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come to the phone so we can talk about patrols.**

_Adrien – Meow =^.^=_

"You're talking to her, aren't you?" Nino asked a second later, Adrien flicking his attention to his best friend. "You've got a stupid grin on your face. It's sad, really.

Adrien glared. "Shut up."

**Marinette – Oh, good kitty ;b I think it'll be fine to do a patrol tonight. My parents aren't angry anymore and I've been un-grounded.**

"Whipped," Nino said simply, when Adrien's attention had fallen right back to his phone again. But, if by whipped, Nino meant that he was head over heels for Mari and would do just about anything for her, then yes, he was whipped. And he was okay with that.

Well, he was dealing with it, in any case. To say their situation was… abnormal was a bit of an understatement. He had, after all, slept two nights beside her in her own bed. The notion itself he knew was inherently suggestive, but it wasn't like that. She said it was a miraculous thing, why she was letting it happen—that she felt comforted being close to him. Adrien didn't care if it was a miraculous thing or not. Either way, he wanted to be close to Mari and he'd take whatever opportunities to do so he could get. That she had _welcomed him into her bed_ was both thrilling and torturous. Thrilling because it meant she trusted him, but torturous because that was likely all it meant.

Not like they'd spent the night canoodled up in each other's arms or something (if only!). The first night, Adrien had woken up to find them in much the same position as they'd fallen asleep, which really wasn't so surprising. He'd been so paranoid about invading her personal space that he'd hardly slept, and been very conscious of keeping distance between them. The second night had been easier—probably because he'd been so exhausted from the first night—and he'd woken up with his back to hers and her striped cat pillow in his arms.

It was strange—he felt both comfortable and uncomfortable with the situation. Comfortable because her presence was soothing—the sound of her light breathing, the feel of her form beside him, like she just made everything in the world okay again. But there was also this thrumming unease because he wanted so badly to pull her in and just hold her, yet he knew he couldn't. That was the torture. He'd had her so… intimately close for two nights, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Truly, he had no idea if this was going to keep up or where it'd lead. And he knew it was a bad idea. His biggest fear was accidentally doing something stupid. Like grabbing her in his sleep or accidentally giving away his feelings. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to object.

He wanted to be close to her so badly—all the time, anywhere. And if sleeping beside her was all he'd ever get, then he'd take it. He'd take whatever she gave him.

"We're just texting…" he eventually muttered out to Nino.

_Adrien – Does this mean we can run in the mornings again?_

"Uh huh, sure."

"I'm serious, Nino," Adrien said, looking his way once more. "It's not like that between us."

Nino huffed. "Weren't you the one that told me, when I liked Marinette, that I should just tell her? Being kind of a hypocrite, ya know. For all of me and Alya's problems, at least we know we're into each other. Or, were, anyway."

"It's not that simple."

"But it can't be _that_ complicated."

"It is."

"How?"

"It just is!" Adrien hadn't meant to get loud, but the conversation was frustrating him. Throwing Nino another apologetic look, he sighed. He'd been doing a pretty good job of ignoring his feelings for Mari in favor of simply being around her. But talking about it made that harder to do. "Sorry," he eventually muttered.

"It's okay…" Nino was staring at him quizzically. "This being complicated, it doesn't, like, have anything to do with your dad, does it?" A question that was both logical and, yet, unexpected. "He's not forbidden you from dating or something, right?"

Adrien almost took the excuse. That was something his father would probably do. But he also wasn't sure he could bring himself to all-out lie to his best friend. It was one thing to fib where Chat Noir was concerned and quite another about other topics. Granted, this was kind of related to Chat Noir and Ladybug, but also kind of not. Besides, he'd gotten Nino into the house and successfully gotten his way in other respects. It seemed cheap and low, to resort to his father as an excuse after all that.

Plus, he still felt guilty over what he'd said. Blaming his father for the one misery he wasn't responsible in having a hand in seemed somehow petty.

"No. I mean, he probably _wouldn't_ want me dating, but that's not it."

"So…" Nino crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not gonna tell me, then?"

Their gazes locked, Adrien unsure what to say.

"It's alright, dude, no pressure," Nino said, raising his hands. "Your business is your business. But I still think you should take your own advice and just tell her. The most she can do is say she's not interested."

"Yeah, I guess…" An agreement that he said with no conviction. It was easy to say something like that from the outside, but Nino didn't know the whole story. Adrien wasn't sure what he'd do if he was rejected by Mari—by Ladybug. Besides, what would something like that do to their friendship? They were just beginning to get really comfortable with one another—he couldn't ruin that with a confession. That'd only make things awkward between them, both in their civilian lives and superhero personas.

No, that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Mari saying she wasn't interested in him would be so much more than that.

Besides, he was…

He was afraid.

He had her then, as a friend—a friend that he dared to think he was becoming quite close with. Being rejected sounded like the worst possible scenario by comparison. No, he'd rather suffer in friendship than… than know that she didn't love him.

He loved _her_ so much—more and more every day. But he'd take that pain over a broken heart.

It was safer this way, and he could still be around her—even if he couldn't be with her.

**Marinette – Yes! Running is on again! My dad doesn't actually dislike you, turns out. I talked to him and our morning workouts should be back on schedule :D**

Smiling just a bit, Adrien sent her back a happy cat emoji.

Thankfully, Nino dropped the subject shortly after, the both of them distracting themselves with video games until around eight-thirty. It was at that time that Adrien feigned being tired, which was as good a hint as any. Nino left shortly after, leaving Adrien to lock his bedroom door, change into his sweats (he wasn't sure where he'd end up after the patrol, but there was a chance it wasn't his own bedroom), turn out the lights, call Plagg, and transform. Slipping out the window, he made sure to close it behind before scaling to the roof of the house.

Crouching with the blustery wind at his back, he narrowed eyes in the direction of Mari's house and waited.

Within some twenty minutes, he saw that familiar flash of red leaping from her balcony and onto the roof behind.

Grinning, he extended his staff and leapt over the wall circling the mansion, bounding onto the line of connected roofs that led up to her own house. She was sprinting his way as well, the two of them meeting about halfway with easy smiles and muscles ready to be stretched and worked.

"It's been a whole week since we were out," she said, Chat crossing his arms over his chest as he looked her up and down.

"I know. Not even any akumas lately."

"Don't say that," she scolded, poking his nose. "You'll jinx it." Smiling wider, she spun away, her hands clasping behind her back as she winked. She shifted gracefully from foot to foot, seeming to flit around him in the growing darkness. And he watched her, as captivated as ever.

It'd be useless to lie and claim her suit did nothing for her. Both of them had been saddled with uniforms that clung to them in every possible way. Not revealing, but not exactly modest either. Complimented by his night vision, he could see her clear as day—the way her pigtails bounced as she twirled, and how her toned shoulders shifted with her movements. How her hips seemed to rock and sway around her thin waist, legs long and just as well-muscled as the rest of her. It was mesmerizing, watching her—a streak of passionate red in the darkness.

Red accented by glittering blue eyes. Eyes of a pure, piercing, layered blue that Adrien had never seen on anyone else. Framed by those long lashes and he could stare at her for hours. For eternity, maybe, if he was given the option.

And then, as if to make the whole situation more hopeless for him than it already was, she giggled. That light, chiming laugh that haunted his dreams, ringing around the edges of all his thoughts.

She was scarlet satin in a sea of stars.

"You okay?" she asked, still grinning as she flitted up in front of him again.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just zoned out for a minute."

"Well don't!" she said simply, as if it were that easy. "We have a patrol to get to, silly kitty." Still flashing that dangerous smile, she skipped up to the edge of the roof and pulled both her yoyos. Allowing him one last look at that smile, she cast out her first yoyo and jumped.

As though pulled by an attached string, Chat leapt after her.

Staff at the ready, her trailed her through the Paris streets, watching her swing deftly from one building to another, using both yoyos to spring between them. She was much faster now, with the two weapons at her disposal, and Chat had to utilize more of his stamina and strength to keep up with her. But he'd always been faster on the ground than she, and so while she went soaring over rooftops—propelled like a slingshot—he sprinted on hands and feet. It was refreshing, actually, to be pushed so hard. He wasn't at his max speed—he feared that would wear out Plagg faster—but he reached near sixty kilometers per hour across the longer stretches of roof, before thrusting himself into the air between buildings.

That, with her at his side, was exhilarating.

Catching herself between both yoyos—each attached to a roof on her either side—Chat watched as she pointed her toes and pulled, arms straining and core tightening as she curled in before driving herself into the air. A graceful curve against the moonlight. Grinning, Chat hurdled himself after her, legs straining before he was tossing himself up beside her.

Hair fluttering around their faces, they caught each other's gazes as they flew together, Adrien whooping as his stomach was pushed up against his spine, fluttering as they fell toward the nearest roof. She laughed beside him, the noise echoing into the Parisian skies.

They landed with certainty, Ladybug immediately reaching for her yoyos to take off again. Yet, as if jarring their routine, she came to an abrupt halt, Chat skidding to a stop beside her.

"What?" he asked, breath only a little quicker than usual.

"The Louvre," was all she said. Which was where they were standing. They'd been on their way across town, to pick up their patrolling where they'd left off previously. Which, in this case, had meant passing over the Louvre.

"What about it?" he asked as she finally turned to him.

"Alya was going to talk to Mr. Kubdel about what my mom said—about the other superheroes—but he wouldn't see her." Thoughtfully, she pooched her lips. "Something about having more important things to do than entertain teenagers."

"Hmm," Chat tapped his chin. "But… you think he'd talk to us?"

"He'd better," she replied shortly, arms crossing. "Alix said he'd been working late nights recently. Maybe he's still here."

Chat shrugged. "No harm in checking." Smiling, he bounded on all fours until he was standing at the edge of the roof. "We'll just walk in through the front doors."

"We'll get security called on us," she replied as she came up beside him.

"Nah, it'll be fine." He grinned deviously. "I've got a good feline about it."

She was not impressed. "Yeah, I bet you do."

He had a plan, of course—else he wouldn't have suggested as much. But before he could commence, Ladybug reached out and took hold of his arm.

"What?" he asked.

"Your boots."

Chat immediately glanced down, but his feet were trapped in the same metal tipped boots as usual. Nothing about them struck him as unusual, which spurred him to look back up at her questioningly.

"The bottoms," she explained, pointing down.

Once more putting his focus downward, Chat folded one of his legs up in front of him, balancing on one foot as he peered at the bottom of his boot.

"They're red," he stated stupidly. The tread was still the same—with the cat paw print on the upper half—but the color on the underside was bright red instead of black. Reaching down, Chat scratched at it with his claw, but there was no effect. And he knew his claws would get off anything that wasn't supposed to be there. He then tapped the sole, but it was solid.

"Maybe… maybe this is, like, a change," Ladybug said, peering around at his boot thoughtfully. "Like my second yoyo."

"Red shoes?" Adrien asked, finally putting his foot back down. He stomped, just for good measure, but didn't notice any difference. And things had been the same when they'd been running across the city. "Well that's… useless."

"Eh…" Ladybug intercepted his gaze, before shrugging awkwardly. "They're… flashier, I suppose."

"For anyone chasing me," he replied dryly. "Why couldn't _I_ get a yoyo…?" Pouting, his ears drooped.

Ladybug rolled her eyes. "Maybe not all changes are significant," she suggested. "Ask Plagg."

"Like he'll be of any use—no more use than red-bottomed boots. I'm gonna get arrested for violating Louboutin's trademark, that's it. I'm a wanted man."

Ladybug sighed. "You had a plan?"

" _Yeah_ , let's go." Bounding down from the roof, he landed down in the courtyard around the pyramid, Ladybug close behind. She didn't question him, the two jogging through the darkness with careful watch for the heavily armed security personal.

Arriving at one of the two front corners of the central pyramid, Chat crouched down beneath the glass.

"Keep me hidden," he murmured to Ladybug as she got down beside him. "Plagg." With a quick flash that Ladybug did her best to conceal, Chat removed his transformation, crouched beside her as Adrien. "Go in through the glass and unlock one of the front doors."

"That's not in my job description," Plagg said stubbornly, looking snotty as he stuck his chin in the air.

"Just do it," Adrien hissed, shoving the little kwami toward the pyramid. "And make sure you disable any security alarms too."

"I better get a lot of cheese for this…" Plagg muttered grumpily before turning and swishing his way into the pyramid. Squatted side by side, Adrien grinned over at Ladybug, who was hovering almost protectively around him while keeping an eye out. She didn't relax again until Plagg returned and he was Chat once more.

Taking the instructions Plagg had given them, they skirted around the front of the pyramid until they were at the row of front doors. Claws delicate, Chat glanced quickly around before pushing his way inside, Ladybug following at his heels. The whole process went off without a hitch, the two making haste down the spiral staircase and hiding in the shadows from any other security personnel. Thankfully, the whole place seemed relatively quiet.

"They're going to catch us on the security cameras," Ladybug whispered, the two of them hiding out beneath the stairs as best they could. "And we don't even know where Mr. Kubdel's office is. I don't know that this was a very good idea…"

Shifting, Chat found that he was beginning to agree. The Louvre was huge. How were they supposed to find one single guy, and remain inconspicuous about it? If he was even there to begin with.

Senses spiking, Chat flicked his ears at the sound of nearby footsteps. Tail wrapping unconsciously around Ladybug's hips, he tugged her closer—further into the shadows—as he peered around and into the dimly lit corridor. Of course, it was brighter to him, but he knew by the gradual shades of green slanting through his vision that it was quite shadowed.

Despite this, a single man walked casually through a doorway nearby, focus down on a tablet as he strolled. He was a tall man, with pale hair and broad shoulders. He sported a pair of thinly rimmed glasses and a gray suit. In other words, he wasn't a security guard.

"What is it?" Ladybug whispered, sending a shiver through Chat's whole body at how close she was. Her breath had ghosted across his jaw and her hand rested lightly on the back of his shoulder.

"Looks like someone who works here, like a historian or something," he replied. "Let's ask him. Maybe he'll know about Kubdel. And if not, we can just go." And come back during the daytime like rational human beings.

"You think we should just reveal ourselves?" She was so close that only centimeters were between their noses as Chat turned to look at her. Despite himself, his tail tightened a bit, looping around and up to her waist.

"We're Ladybug and Chat Noir," he replied quietly. "What are they gonna do?"

She cocked a single eyebrow, but then grinned, so Chat took that as permission enough. Sharing eye contact with her for just a moment longer, he then put his focus back on the suited man, before slipping out of the shadows. She trailed close behind, Chat's tail only slowly falling from her person as they moved out into the open.

There was limited light with the museum closed, but enough that, when Chat cleared his throat, the man who'd been walking by snapped his head up.

He blinked, looking them up and down before an expression of unease descended on his stiff features. Not fear, however. More like defensiveness.

"Don't worry," Chat said, tone steady. "We're not here to cause trouble. We're just wondering if you could help us."

The man's critical eyes narrowed, but he didn't object. Rather, his tall stature relaxed a bit, even if his suspicion didn't.

"We're looking for a man by the name of Kubdel," Ladybug explained. "Do you know if he's still here? We'd like to speak with him, if he is."

"He has been staying late, working," the man replied, voice deep. "I suppose I could take you to his office. If he's still here, that's where he'll be."

"That would be wonderful," Chat replied, smirking as he bowed just a bit. "We'd greatly appreciate it."

"Sure…" Apparently, this man wasn't the type to be impressed by superheroes. He was still giving them the stink-eye, clearly suspicious. Which, really, was reasonable. Not like they'd broken into a grocery story or something—this was the Louvre. Yet, he didn't seem overly paranoid, so the two decided it was probably fair to follow him when he turned and went back the way he'd originally come.

Keeping a fair distance between them, Chat and Ladybug made their way down through the hall, only a thin strip of lights still ignited to lead the way. They eventually ended up going through a side door and down some stairs, into a back corridor where visitors wouldn't normally be allowed. Their suited guide said nothing the whole way, eventually coming to a halt outside one of a series of closed doors.

Raising his fist, he knocked.

"Yes?" a voice called from inside. "Who is it?"

"It's Baines," their guide replied. "You have visitors."

"What do you means I have visitors?" said an irritated voice from inside, before the door was yanked open. "It's damn near ten at night…" Mr. Kubdel spotted them right away, both Ladybug and Chat standing tall and with total poise. His dark hair was a mess, his mustache needing a bit of a brush beneath his nose. But, overall, he appeared quite alert and, as the seconds ticked by, intent.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir," their guide—"Baines"—introduced, gesturing their way.

"Indeed," Mr. Kubdel agreed quietly, removing his glasses from his face before wiping them on the bottom of his dress shirt. It wasn't until he'd returned them to his face that he spoke again. "Is there something I can do for you?" Any annoyance at being interrupted had vanished from his expression, hungry curiosity replacing it.

"I have a source with the Ladyblog," Ladybug said confidently, sounding anything _but_ like a teenage girl. "Someone there alerted me that you may be able to answer a few questions—questions that the runner of the blog was unable to get through to you."

"Ah, yes, the young reporter," he replied. "I had no idea she worked so closely with you."

"She doesn't know it, but I defer to her findings in some cases like I do many sources of information," Ladybug replied. "Would it be at all interposing to speak with you now?"

"Certainly not," Mr. Kubdel said almost too excitedly. "I'd be honored to answer any questions you have, if I can." He stood back, gesturing into his large office. Sharing only one quick look with Chat, Ladybug stepped forward, heading in with him right behind.

"Uh, Baines, thank you," Kubdel said from the door, once Chat and Ladybug were inside. The office was big—at least as far as offices were concerned—but still cramped compared to the wide-open spaces Chat preferred. "I'll take things from here."

"Have him stay," Chat interjected, looking to their guide. "That is, if you don't mind."

Baines quirked an eyebrow, but didn't object. "I have no qualms with that."

"Ah, yes, certainly. Stay, stay," Kubdel replied, gesturing Baines in as well. Once all four of them were inside—Baines staying by the door while Ladybug and Chat stood before the desk—Kubdel made his way over before sitting himself on the edge of the furniture piece. "So! What can I help you with?"

"I've heard that you're interested in superhero history," Ladybug said outright, not at all beating around the bush. Chat smiled a bit at her attitude, but said nothing.

"I- Yes, I have been dedicating a considerable amount of time to it recently," he replied, though he sounded a bit uneasy in doing so. But, Chat supposed, when you worked in a place as prestigious as the Louvre, dedicating time to something like superheroes might be frowned upon.

"I've come across some information myself and was wondering if you'd be able to expand on it," Ladybug explained. "Do you know anything about the term 'Podwójne Ogony?' I've been told it's Polish, and roughly translates to-"

"Twin Tails," Kubdel interrupted. "Yes, I'm familiar with the term." Ladybug didn't have to ask for him to know to elaborate. "The term seems to originate in the early nineteen hundreds."

"During World War II," Ladybug provided.

"Actually," Kubdel got to his feet and cut across to the wall on the left side of the room, "the term predates the war." Reaching up, he pulled on a single string hanging there, a map unfolding as he did. It was marked up in certain areas, with arrows and sticky notes, but that which was behind was still clear. Not a modern map of Europe, but one from the very time period they were discussing. "Not by much, but I've managed to zero in on reports of the Podwójne Ogony as far back as 1935."

"Do you have any details on… anything about it?" Ladybug asked—because, aside from what Sabine had provided, they knew nothing.

"The Podwójne Ogony seems to have originated in Poland, or, at least, the alter ego Podwójne Ogony." He gestured to Poland on the map, both Ladybug and Chat listening intently. "The first reports I dug up came from central Poland, before slowly graduating south with sightings of the Podwójne Ogony."

"Do you have any details on what, exactly, they were?"

"Very little, unfortunately," Kubdel replied, frowning. "Most sightings were at night and seemingly fleeting. From what I can tell, the title Podwójne Ogony came about as a result of citizens seeing the two in passing. The name seems to imply that these heroes, perhaps, possessed features similar to tails? But that is merely speculation based on the term."

Ladybug tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Do you have any idea what they were doing?"

" _That_ I do know more about," Kubdel replied, sounding excited again as he turned back to his map. "Like I said before, the Podwójne Ogony appear to have migrated south, as well as closer to the border, as tensions between Nazi Germany and surrounding countries grew. I even managed to dig up reports from what was Czechoslovakia. But the highest number of sightings I've collected from prior to the war were from Austria."

"That far south?" Chat asked.

"That far south indeed. It's all very significant. You see," he pointed to Italy on the map, "during this time and prior to World War II, Italy was broadcasting the idea of Imperial Expansion. It's interesting that you would bring up the term 'Podwójne Ogony,' but there was also another similar entity at around the same time—though I'm not sure I would refer to this particular entity as a 'hero.'

"It took me a great deal of time to dissect the term, as it was vaguely referred to in a few Italian reports. I thought, perhaps, it was an organization, but upon coming across the Podwójne Ogony and investigating those exploits, I was forced to reevaluate other variables.

"The Volpine, that is."

"Volpine?" Ladybug asked. Volpina flashed immediately through Adrien's thoughts.

"Yes. The Italian reports from the mid 1930s refer to the Volpine as a sort of fear mongering entity that was used during the controversies with Ethiopia—so a considerable distance south. However, as politics between Nazi Germany and Italy bettered, and Germany moved toward war with its neighbors, we saw the Volpine migrating north. Until it was referred to as being used on the borders of Italy and Austria. Which is where the Volpine and Podwójne Ogony first came into contact with one another.

"It was this vaguely reported conflict that led me to believe that the Volpine was not, in fact, an organization, but an individual with… powers similar to yours, perhaps," he gestured to them, "or those of Podwójne Ogony, though I know little of what those abilities were. The only thing I can deduce is that the Volpine's skills were suited to spreading fear across nations and that the Podwójne Ogony were doing all they could to fight back against this—so as to prevent a weakening of national disposition. But their attempts, ultimately, failed, and they retreated back to Poland just before Nazi Germany invaded—likely to help fight that, rather than focus their attention on the Volpine."

"And this was all before World War II started?" Ladybug questioned.

"This takes us right up to World War II," he went on. "Though the larger chunk of Podwójne Ogony reports prior to the war came from Austria, the majority overall come from Poland during its campaign early on. This appears to be where the Podwójne Ogony contributed most heartily in defense of their, I'm assuming, home country. But, ultimately, Poland was annexed by Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union two months later, which means that most of these Poland reports of the Podwójne Ogony come from a very short stretch of time."

"And there were no further reports of them after that?" Ladybug asked.

"Contraire, actually," Kubdel corrected. "It was during these two months in Poland that the Podwójne Ogony were most visible—in that awareness of them was at its peak. But they must have escaped Poland following the annexation, because there are spotty reports from all over the Allied powers following. Most of them were simply mentioned in passing, and as—I assume—most of their focus was on the battlefield and not civilian areas, they were able to remain more low key in their goings on. But they were very much involved in the remainder of the war.

"In fact, as shown on this map," he gestured accordingly, "I've marked all reports and tracked them in accordance to year. The Volpine, as well. During the last months of the war, both were mentioned more predominantly around Germany. I would assume they came to some sort of confrontation again before the end of the war, but once victory was declared, all mention of them evaporates." As if this last detail was the ultimate let down, Kubdel slumped, staring at the map as though it would somehow—magically—provide him with the answers he didn't have.

"If the Podwójne Ogony, and Volpine for that matter, were so heavily involved in the war, how is it that finding knowledge of them is so difficult?" Ladybug asked, forehead scrunching.

"Well," Kubdel turned to them, raising his eyebrows skeptically, "when I say there are reports, I don't mean in the direct sense. I've had to do much going over and backtracking, translating, even assuming based on little evidence, to get the information I have. Much of it is… speculation. But, ultimately," he looked back to the map, "the paths do make some semblance of sense."

"And there's nothing following the war?" Chat asked.

"Well, not that I've found. But," Kubdel shrugged, "I haven't gotten that in-depth following the war yet. I'm still trying to dissect between 1935 and the end of the war, let alone what followed. Lack of evidence could simply be due to my ignorance." A fact over which he did not sound pleased.

Arms crossing over his chest, Chat stared at the map curiously. Really, it seemed a very foreign subject, what these supposed "heroes" had done, at least in comparison to what he and Ladybug partook in. True, what they did was often dangerous—be it akumas or dealing with general crime—but he couldn't imagine what fighting in a war as Chat Noir would be like. Certainly he'd have plenty of advantages, but he'd never considered that type of conflict—at least, not for himself. But, then again, if France were suddenly plunged into war, he'd certainly want to do what he could. If the fight were justified, in any case.

What stories those heroes would have to tell, and experience. Then again, veterans weren't always apt to talk about their time spent in war. Not that it mattered. If the Podwójne Ogony had, in fact, been a duo of heroes like he and Ladybug, they were likely dead. All that knowledge, lost.

Maybe it was better that way…

"Thank you, Mr. Kubdel," Ladybug said, nodding once. "You've enlightened the situation considerably."

"Of course," Mr. Kubdel replied, as intent as ever. In the same moment, he came closer, hands shifting at his sides before he held one out toward Chat. "It's a pleasure to help Paris' saviors, even in a small way."

Pausing for just a moment, Chat reached out and completed the handshake. He was acutely aware of the way Mr. Kubdel stared down at the contact, and how his ring flashed green atop his black-covered finger. It wasn't unheard of that people took interest in the miraculouses—not like Hawkmoth had kept it to himself, the jewelry he and Ladybug wore and why it was significant. Yet, still, it made Chat uncomfortable, and so he pulled his hand back shortly after.

Ladybug shook his hand following, Chat's eyes narrowing just a bit as Mr. Kubdel's focus fell to her earrings.

He was clearly staring, to the point where Ladybug noticed as well, her hand retracting at the same time.

"You- Would you mind," Mr. Kubdel dared to ask, "if I took a- a closer look at your earrings?"

Chat's hackles rose just a bit.

"I would mind, yes," Ladybug said, voice coated in a thick layer of defensive chilliness. Which should have closed the subject. But, despite her declining his request, Mr. Kubdel's hand rose toward her anyway, Chat taking a step closer.

The motion faltered before it became threatening, however, Kubdel's attention flicking from Ladybug to Chat, then to the man standing back by the door—as though he'd forgotten he wasn't alone with the heroes. Fingers folding into a fist, his hand returned to his side.

"Of course," he nodded. "If there's anything else I can ever do to assist you, please let me know."

"Certainly," Ladybug said stiffly.

"Baines can show you out, can't you?"

They all glanced back at the other man, who was watching Kubdel with curiously furrowed brows. "…Of course…" he eventually agreed.

They left the office shortly after, Baines leading them to the front and successfully getting them by any security. They were soon back out in the night air, shooting a few roofs over from the Louvre before they paused to discuss.

"That was… interesting…" Chat said, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

"It was," Ladybug replied, "but not exactly useful." Because, for all they'd learned, they couldn't make much of the information. True, they hadn't been looking for anything specific, but that wasn't to say it wouldn't have been nice to learn something relative to themselves. But maybe that was asking for too much.

Chat pursed his lips. "He was certainly interested in the miraculouses."

Ladybug smiled almost sympathetically. "He's a historian," she reasoned. "Can't really blame him for being curious."

"I guess," Chat said. "Still, he should keep his paws to himself."

"Like you do?" she asked, smile widening as she eyed him knowingly.

"I keep my paws exactly where they should be," he replied, sidling up to her with a devious smirk of his own. She didn't shy away from him, even when only centimeters separated them. Reaching up, Chat dared to gently caress at the lobe of her ear, the claw of his thumb grazing the glassy surface of her spotted earring. "Well," he muttered, "I don't put them anywhere you don't want me to." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Ladybug huffed. "You're ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes before taking a step away. And Chat was about to let her go—watch her lift off into the night if only because he enjoyed the view—but instead found himself reaching for her.

Fingers wrapping around her wrist, he tugged her to a stop, Ladybug whipping around on him within the moment.

"Chat-"

"Shhh!" he hissed, ears twitching as he peered back and forth in the darkness. Raising his nose to the breeze, he sniffed, catching again what he'd thought he had a second earlier.

Focus flicking quickly up, he zeroed in on a steeple some three roofs over, but saw nothing. Until a flash twitched in his peripherals, head jerking to the right as he watched a blue flash vanish behind a chimney.

He was off within the moment.

Clattering and vaulting over the roofs, he skidded behind the chimney where he'd seen the flash of bright color, but was not surprised when it was gone. He scanned the surrounding area, looking for any type of clue, but came up empty-handed. No scent, no trace, nothing.

"Chat?" Ladybug landed deftly beside him.

"They got away," he muttered, teeth gritting in frustration.

"Who?"

He finally tore his gaze from the scene and looked her way. "That blue thing I saw before," he clarified. "I just saw it again. That's twice now."

Ladybug blinked. "Three times," she corrected.

"What?"

"I saw it too," she explained. "The night we fought the Procrastinator. After you'd disappeared, it was there. It… distracted the akuma, I think. I don't know if doing so was intentional or not, but it gave me the opening I'd needed. I'm sorry," she glanced down at the shingles beneath them. "I totally forgot."

"Don't worry about it," Chat replied, throwing her an easy smile. "That just supports what I was already thinking." He crossed his arms. "Whatever it is, I think it's following us."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Ladybug said, frowning as she did. "I was thinking the same thing." But not just anyone would be capable of trailing them. Someone with expert tracking skills would have to be behind it, and an equal affinity for roof jumping. Someone with abilities beyond that of the average human.

"I don't like it," Chat said for both of them. "Could be Hawkmoth, or some kind of akuma."

"Doesn't exactly fit akuma M.O.," Ladybug replied. "And Hawkmoth's never shown himself in person. Why would he now?"

"I don't know, but we have been fighting him for a while now. Maybe he's getting impatient and trying other methods. I doubt it would actually _be_ him, but maybe he's found somebody to akumatize who'd be interested in following us."

"That's plausible," Ladybug agreed. "If they followed us long enough, then there's a chance they'd see us go home." And that would reveal their identities.

"Exactly," Chat agreed. "Even if it's not Hawkmoth and… something else," which was also unsettling, "I don't want it finding out where we live."

Ladybug nodded in agreement. "We should split up tonight," she suggested. "Take long routes home. Go different directions." Since they lived so close to one another.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Chat agreed, despite not wanting to. Their visit to Mr. Kubdel had already taken up a good chunk of their patrol time and if they were going to run around the long way home, that would take up the rest of it.

Awkwardly, Chat reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to voice what was itching at him, but didn't know how. The last two nights, he'd gotten invited over to her house via message, which somehow made it easier to just pop over. But standing there, right in front of her, left him uncertain. He couldn't very well invite himself over, but if they split up, he was sentenced to going back to his own room—which wasn't what he wanted.

But maybe she'd only been inviting him over because, otherwise, they hadn't been seeing one another at all. Perhaps patrolling was enough contact for her for one day. It wasn't near enough for him, but he had other reasons for that aside from potential effects of the miraculouses.

In front of him, she'd turned and looked out across the rooftops, blue eyes blinking once inside her mask. She appeared thoughtful, probably thinking about whatever it was that was following them. Like he should have been. But sometimes he found it so difficult to think of anything but her.

"Well, should we be off then?" she asked, glancing his way again.

"Y-yeah, I guess."

She smiled, Chat uncertain if she was stalling in her departure or if he was simply trying to elongate the time they spent together as much as possible with excuses.

"See you, then," she continued.

"Sure…"

"Half an hour ought to do it, right?" she asked.

Chat's brows furrowed. "Half an hour?"

"Half an hour outside our regular route, to throw off whoever is watching us," she explained. "And then I'll see you?"

It took a moment, but her words did eventually sink in. Chat had to fight every urge inside himself not to sigh in relief. "Of course, My Lady," he managed to get out, bowing elaborately and forcefully reining his smile into a mere smirk.

She pooched her lips to one side, gaze flicking side to side before she skipped to the edge of the roof. With a short wave in his direction, she lifted off, swinging into the city and out of sight.

Chat, smiling wide once she was gone, stood staring in the direction she'd flown off in, before he took off in the opposite. Dashing over roofs and vaulting between chimneys, the half hour was filled with both tense anticipation as well as impatience. But he got through it, though it seemed long, and was breathing hard by the time he dropped down on her balcony. He'd pushed himself at high speeds, both in efforts to create as wide a circle back as possible and to simply distract himself from the ticking time.

A few seconds after he'd arrived, she soared in after him, touching down gracefully as she clicked her yoyos back around her hips.

Chat faced her, chest still heaving as he grinned.

"Think we lost them?" she asked, casting him a sly smile as she approached the skylight.

"No way they could have kept up with me," he replied, winking. "I'm faster than a cat after a mouse, you know."

"Confident." She'd lifted the skylight, feigning skepticism.

"Wouldn't you be, if you were me?" Pulling his arm up, he flexed.

"Yeah, sure," she said flatly. "C'mon, Catsanova, before you draw in all the neighborhood's strays with your impressive display." With that, she dropped down into her bedroom, Chat having no qualms with following after.

Doing the polite thing, he flashed out of his transformation before he hit her mattress, not wanting to drop down with boots still on. She didn't seemed to care, as she was standing there still as Ladybug, but it wasn't his bed and he wasn't going to make a mess of it if he could help it. Instead, he pulled the skylight closed before folding down into sitting at the head of her bed, legs crossed under him.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Ladybug said dryly, gesturing lazily to him. Plagg was already down by her desk, where Adrien saw she had camembert waiting. Because she'd expected him.

The warmth in his chest was blossoming uncontrollably, despite how he tried to quell the sensation.

"Oh, don't worry," he assured, leaning back against her wall. "I'm quite good at making myself comfortable in any accommodations. So don't put yourself out on my behalf."

"How generous." Turning, she hopped from the bed down onto the steps, her transformation finally disappearing in a flash of red sparkles. Tikki floated beside her, looking once at Adrien before letting loose a short giggle and zipping down to join Plagg (there was a plate of cookies beside the camembert).

Mari continued down the stairs, Adrien crawling across the mattress until he was hanging over the banister. He watched as she touched down on the floor, still dressed in her day clothes as she headed across the room to the thin door that led into her bathroom.

Arms hanging, Adrien frowned into the silence, only perking back up once she reemerged. Dressed in a pair of pink shorts and her typical tank-top, she stopped by to pat both the kwami lightly before climbing back up the stairs. Adrien remained leaning on the banister as she did, watching as she crawled onto the mattress. She edged up to the front of the bed, Adrien turning in order to keep her in his sights. She was fluffing her cat pillow, pushing up against the wall before she sat down in front of it. She then tugged on her blanket, as if to cover herself, but couldn't because Adrien was sitting on it.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Grinning, Adrien finally slunk up beside her, sitting back against the other side of her cat pillow as she pulled the blanket up to cover both their lower halves. Their arms knocked together, but neither said anything on the subject.

"I was thinking," she said after a moment, smoothing the comforter over her legs as she did. "We should talk to Master Fu still, about what we learned from Mr. Kubdel. We were going to talk to him anyway, and maybe he'll know more." They hadn't had the chance to speak with him previously, not with Mari getting suspended and grounded.

"We'll probably see him tomorrow morning," Adrien replied, conscious of keeping his voice low. "We can ask him then."

"That's what I was thinking…" She was trailing her finger in squiggly lines over the comforter, abruptly appearing distracted. Adrien frowned.

"My Lady?"

"I'm worried," she admitted, shoulders slumping. "About that… blue thing. What if you're right and Hawkmoth is getting impatient?" Clasping her hands together, she gripped them in clear anxiety. Frowning further, Adrien reached up and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"If he is, then we'll deal with it," he assured. "Just like we always do."

"I just…" She turned her head to look up at him. "I don't like the idea that he's changing tactics. That means he could do something… unexpected." After they'd grown so used to his typical activities. "And that means he could catch us off guard."

"Mari…?"

She visibly swallowed. "Surprises are dangerous."

"He can throw whatever he wants at us," Adrien comforted, hand squeezing her shoulder. "We'll deal with it, together. He hasn't been able to beat us yet and he won't." Yet, she didn't appear reassured.

Instead, her eyes fell, before she leaned into him. Arms wrapping around him, she pressed her face lightly into his chest. Initially taken aback, Adrien stared down at the top of her head, a few seconds passing before he had the presence of mind to embrace her back. Reaching up with his other arm, he linked it around her, uncertain what else to do.

"Promise me," she murmured, Adrien listening. "Promise you won't do anything dangerous."

Adrien pursed his lips. They'd already been over this once. "Everything we do is dangerous, Mari…" he murmured above her head. "That's not something I can promise you."

Her hold on him tightened. "Then promise to be careful."

"My Lady…"

"Please." She burrowed her nose against his chest. "I don't want to be Ladybug if you're not Chat Noir."

Adrien gaped, unsure what to make of her words, but shocked by them nonetheless. Of course, he knew they worked well together, but her admission was much more poignant than that. Yet, they were partners—they'd come into this together. It made sense that she wouldn't want to change that.

And they were friends besides. Of course she… cared about him. He knew she did. He just hadn't anticipated it coming to the forefront so blatantly. Or that she'd admit it in such a direct fashion.

"Nothing's going to happen," he finally said. "We're going to take down Hawkmoth together, just like we're supposed to. Don't worry, Mari. There's nothing we can't deal with as a team." A fact that he firmly believed. So long as she was with him, there was nothing he couldn't take on.

She didn't respond, but he wasn't sure he'd anticipated she would. Instead, her fingers trailed back to his sides, holding the fabric of his t-shirt as she remained in place. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Adrien holding her and simply feeling her breathe against him—letting her warmth seep through.

He never wanted to let her go.

Of course, she did pull away eventually. Slowly, she pushed back, glancing up at him with a searching sort of anxiety in her eyes. So he did what he could to look reassuring, smiling gently. Which eventually pulled a similar expression from her, albeit with a certain degree of unwillingness.

With a drawn out sigh, she leaned up, reaching behind him to the light switches on the wall. The room was dark within the moment, Mari settling back beside him before slipping down so her head was resting on the cat pillow. A slight glow was cast over them both from the skylight above, Adrien watching the way her pale skin was ignited in the moonlight.

She flicked her gaze up to his, saying nothing as he slid down to her level. Their eyes remained locked, Adrien's arm still stretched out around her as he settled his own head atop the cat pillow.

A few moments passed before she looked away, her finger coming up to pull at her bottom lip thoughtfully. Adrien watched her the whole time, unsure what to make of the thick silence that wavered between them. He felt as though he should say something, but he had no idea what. At least, as far as what was appropriate.

He couldn't ask to hold her again, or to run his fingers through her hair. He couldn't ask to kiss her, despite how the thought hammered inside his head—despite how the temptation of her soft lips got worse and worse every day.

And so he was speechless, the allure of her tiny freckles drawing his attention continuously.

She eventually flicked her gaze back up to his, Adrien unsure if there was a slight redness overcoming her cheeks or if he was imagining it. He doubted his own perceptions when it came to her, fearing that he'd give himself hope out of desperation, even if there was none to be had.

But then, as though that had been what she'd been contemplating, she pushed closer to him. Until she was slipping her arm up across his chest, face nuzzling into his collar as the rest of her body pressed up along his side.

Initially, Adrien didn't know what to do. His whole body stiffened, heart choking in his chest. He blinked, brain slow to comprehend as he peered down at the top of her head. And it was only when her hand shifted, as though she were going to put her finger back on her lip in uncertainty, that Adrien finally pulled himself together.

Before she could complete the gesture, he pulled his own hand up and dared to gently lay it over hers atop his chest. By that point, his heart was racing so swiftly he was sure she could feel it. But there was no hiding the fact if she could, not without pushing her away. And he wouldn't do that, not with her having come closer of her own volition.

He didn't know what it meant, her actions—whether she was simply seeking closeness as a comfort or if it was… something else. Something _more_. He wanted to know, but was too terrified to ask—afraid that doing so would break whatever spell was between them. Instead, he held his hand over hers, his other arm drifting down around her back. Slipping beneath the comforter, he wanted to rest his fingers on her waist—just a light embrace—and was jolted with shock when it wasn't her tank-top he found, but bare skin.

Her shirt had ridden up, probably when she'd sunk down beneath the covers, and revealed the skin just above her hip. The contact of his fingertips with her exposed skin sent a tremor up his whole arm, one that he had to close his eyes and purse his lips to subdue.

In a flash, all the possible consequences tripped through his head—that she'd turn away, push back, be offended—so he held his breath and waited.

But she didn't do anything, his fingers still just barely resting atop her waist as the seconds ticked by. And so Adrien, abruptly overrun with the gutsiness Chat always had and that he generally feared would land him in hot water, allowed his hand to rest fully atop her bare side, the soft smoothness of her skin sending warm throbs down through his whole body.

He grit his teeth and forced his breathing to ease, ignoring the way his nerves snapped and ricocheted, knowing it wouldn't take much for his own behavior to be construed as unease. He _was_ uneasy, but not because he wanted her to retreat. It was quite the opposite.

After a few seconds, her hand shifted on his chest, lying flatter beneath his own. But that was the only movement he noticed directly following his risky touching, and so he supposed that was a good sign.

She was comfortable with him, trusted him—these things he knew. Did her actions, or lack of action, mean more than that? He didn't know. And in the quiet he didn't ask. Rather, he allowed himself to slowly relax, to take in the sensation of her body against his and his hand on hers. Of her bare skin beneath his palm and the way her own breathing sounded just softly around him.

It lulled him, allowing him to sink fully into the mattress and match his own breaths to hers.

Her presence eased him, until his exhaustion from the day finally overcame any nervousness keeping him awake. The last thing he thought of, before drifting off, was the pleasant heat of both their bodies together beneath the covers.

**oOo**

She was upset. He knew the telltale noises of her growling distaste from the other room. Setting down the dishes from breakfast, he straightened his suit jacket before stepping out into the hall. She was over by the window, her yellow over-shirt obvious through the transparent curtains she stood behind.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he silently approached.

"I can't believe this!" she hissed out, seemingly to herself. She had her hands lying against the glass of the window, attention on whatever was beyond. "After what she did to me and he'd dare to continue hanging out with her?!"

Peering over her shoulder, he spotted that which was causing her distress. Across the street, leaving the small shop on the corner, were two of her classmates. One he knew was Adrien Agreste, as the boy had once visited the hotel quite regularly. The other he could only assume, based on appearance, was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the very girl that had fractured Chloe's nose and left her with black and blue bruises that seeped under the bandage stretched beneath her eyes.

Lips pursing, he considered what to do. He'd known Chloe since she was a baby—worked for Mayor Bourgeois as their butler since before Mrs. Bourgeois had passed. In many ways, he considered himself closer to her than anyone, if not still at a distance because of his job. And if there was anything he disliked, it was seeing her upset. He knew she was spoiled and could misbehave, but that hardly mattered to him. Rather, what did matter was that he knew she had very few friends and that she despised this Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Seeing one of her only friends, Mr. Agreste, affiliating with this hated entity following their altercation would hurt her.

He knew this without a doubt.

It was probably best to remove her from viewing the situation.

Clearing his throat, he reached out to her. "Ms. Bourgeois," he said gently, his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

"What, Pierre?!" she snapped, turning on him with a scowl. This did not faze him.

"Should you not be getting ready for school?" Of course, she had plenty of time, but that was quite beside the point. He knew she was easily swayed into doing certain things, if she was approached from the right perspective. "The new makeup you ordered came in last night. I would advise you give it a trial run, before you don it for class." Makeup she'd ordered specifically to cover her injury.

"I'm not worried about my makeup!" she said before turning sharply back to the window. "What were they doing in there?! And why is he still hanging around with her?! Didn't he see the state of my face yesterday?! She practically disfigured me!"

"Ms. Bourgeois," Pierre continued, persistent. "Please, let us retreat to your bedroom. I'm sure there's an explanation for-"

"What explanation?!" she yelled, turning on him. "There isn't one! After what she did, Adrien should have cut off any 'friendship' they had. But he didn't! Do you know what this means?!"

"I- Ms. Bour-"

"It means he's picking her over me!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot once as her hands balled into fists at her side. "It means that he likes her better! That he'd rather be _Marinette's_ friend than mine! I wish he'd never gone to public school!"

She was practically screaming.

"He was my friend first and now she's taking him away!" He could see the angry tears forming along her eyes, a sight that was both rare and heartbreaking. "I hate her! I've always hated her! She's horrible and I wish she'd gotten expelled because then she couldn't take him away from me!"

"Ms. Chl-"

"Well, I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't need him! I've never needed him, or anyone! I don't want friends!" She took a step back, Pierre's hand falling away in the same moment. "I don't need anyone! Him, or Sabrina! Or Daddy! I don't need any of them!"

"Chloe, please, let's just-"

"And I don't need _you_ either!" she shrieked. "So don't ever talk to me again!" With that, she spun on her heel and ran down the hall, vanishing behind the double doors a second later.

Hand still outstretched, Pierre stared after her with a slight gape. He'd seen Chloe upset plenty of times, but never with quite so heart-wrenching a tone. It wasn't her words that hurt him (she'd told him off plenty of times before), but, rather, the desperation with which she'd screamed them.

He feared for her, above all else, and his whole heart was dropping in his chest at the thought of her own distress. He wanted to help her, to somehow make her pain go away, but he knew from experience that she wouldn't let him. She was so stubborn, and tried to be so strong. He was, quite honestly, terrified that her own defensive mindset would lead her down the same destructive path it had her mother.

The fear of such a fate increased in him every day, as she continued to unconsciously isolate herself more and more. He wanted to help her—so, so badly—but he didn't know _how_. And her father didn't see it, not the way he did.

It was breaking his heart every day, seeing history repeat itself. He didn't know how he'd bear it.

Bear to see the same devastation all over again, and in someone so young and precious to him.

" _Pierre_."

Blinking, he raised his head, unaware that he'd even retreated so fully into his own grief.

" _My name is Hawkmoth, and I want to help you. That is, help_ _ **you**_ _help_ _ **her**_."

His words were so solid, and filled Pierre with strength beyond anything he could have imagined. Suddenly, he had the confidence to do it. To help her, no matter the cost.

" _But you have to do something for me in return_ ," Hawkmoth continued. " _Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculouses—I need you to bring them to me. Can you do that, Pierre?_ "

"Yes, Hawkmoth."

" _Good. Your name from now on is Papier Machette. Now, go, and bring the girl everything she desires. And bring_ _ **me**_ _the miraculouses_."

Pierre smiled. "It would be my absolute pleasure."


	8. Part One - Trouble in Paradise

Throwing the window open, Papier Machette jumped up on the ledge. He glanced at himself in the window's reflection, grinning just a bit at his papery-white suit, his mustache longer and twirling as pieces of pale ribbon fluttered from his arms like tassels. Reaching up, he straightened his bowtie before he jumped. Landing deftly on the sidewalk, he didn't even bother looking both ways before he headed out into the street.

There was traffic, of course, and as a car came screeching and honking toward him, he slipped his hand over the handle on his hip. With a graceful swing, he removed the machete from its sheath and sliced it down in the car's path. He spared the vehicle a look as he did, gauging its worthiness.

It was an economy car, the women inside hardly of any importance. Not something or someone Ms. Bourgeois would be interested in. Therefore, not worth collecting.

The glimmering, golden blade touched down on the hood of the car, Papier Machette scowling as he willed it away. Just before it struck him, the whole thing, and everything inside, burst into tiny shreds of thin paper, fluttering into the street as he kept walking. His own ribbons trailed behind, the use of his power washing over him as he continued. Cars slammed on their brakes around him, none daring approach now, and he was scowling as he finally got to the sidewalk on the other side.

He had to do this for Ms. Bourgeois. He had to get her everything she wanted. He had to make her _happy_. These were the thoughts that echoed through every bone in his body as the strength he'd used echoed inside him.

Ms. Bourgeois, Ms. Bourgeois, Ms. Bourgeois!

Going to the shop on the corner, he paid no attention to the "closed" sign, instead raising his machete again and slicing through the front door. The wood crumpled into a sheet of paper, slipping to the ground as he stepped through.

Massages, he read. An empty front desk and no one else around.

He'd find them! For Ms. Bourgeois!

Sheathing his weapon, he stepped through the parlor and into the back hall, which was split left and right. Peering one way, then another, he looked for any clue, the light seeping under the screen on the far right drawing his focus.

Without any hesitation, he headed down, hand going again to his machete as he reached the screen door. Standing before it, he drew his weapon and sliced up, the screen crumpling and bursting into tiny shreds.

He thought of Ms. Bourgeois. He _had_ to think of her.

He could think of nothing else.

"Where are they?!" he demanded as he stepped into the room, eyes falling to the single man crouched at the center beside a mat. He was older, with a small beard and short stature. And though he appeared surprised at having been interrupted, he did not look afraid.

"W-who?" the old man asked.

"The teenagers!" Papier Machette pointed his blade at the man. "Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng! They were here! Now, where are they?!"

"I don't know," the man replied, slowly standing as he eyed the machete. "They left some time ago."

Papier Machette narrowed his gaze, scowling once more. "If you cannot help me, then you are of no value. Not worth collecting." Ms. Bourgeois would have no use for such a person.

The older man's eyes widened and he looked as though he would say something more, but Papier Machette had limited patience and little time. Pushing his power through him—thinking of Ms. Bourgeois—he stepped out and sliced forward.

The man exploded into a burst of paper pieces. They fluttered in a fog, Papier Machette glancing around for anything that would lead him to what he needed, or anything that would be worth collecting for Ms. Bourgeois. Anything valuable—she loved anything expensive or showy.

There was a gramophone on the table, Papier Machette heading directly for it. But as he got closer, he saw that it was old—antique. Which pulled his scowl back into place. Shiny it may be, but Ms. Bourgeois had no use for anything old. Not worth collecting.

Pulling his machete up, he sliced down on the old gramophone, exploding it into paper pieces.

And he would have turned away, returned to his search, were it not for the sound of tinkling metal hitting wood. Whipping back around on the gramophone, which should have been completely destroyed, he saw something sparkling beneath the paper. Something that had somehow survived his attack.

Which was infuriating. If Ms. Bourgeois did not desire it, then such things did not deserve to exist!

Swiping away the paper pieces, he saw two relics lying on the table—a single comb with bee accents and a foxtail necklace. They shined with an impressive brilliance, one that eased Papier Machette's distress.

These were things Ms. Bourgeois would appreciate. These were worthy.

He reached for them.

" _Do not touch those!_ " Hawkmoth's voice rocked his whole head, the fierceness of it knocking Papier Machette off balance. " _Leave them!_ "

"But Ms. Bourgeois-"

" _They will still be here! Do not take them now. Wait. Wait until you have Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculouses. You would not want them to apprehend things so valuable before you can give them to Ms. Bourgeois, yes? Leave them. Leave them and return when you have their miraculouses."_

"Yes, that makes sense," Papier Machette agreed. "I would not want to lose something so valuable to Ladybug and Chat Noir."

" _No, you would not. Go! Go and find that which will make Ms. Bourgeois happy._ "

"Yes. I will go." Turning away, Papier Machette headed back the way he'd come. As he walked through the paper remains of the old man, his boot kicked something, sending it hopping across the room.

No. Ms. Bourgeois. He had to get her what she wanted. Come back later.

_Come back later._

**oOo**

"You're so infuriating sometimes," Adrien muttered, lips pooching as he gave Plagg the nastiest glare he could manage. But the kwami wasn't the least bit fazed by it. Rather, he floated lazily on his back, snickering at Adrien's frustration. "You know something and you could tell us."

"Why do you think I'd know anything?" Plagg asked, darting out of Adrien's reach. "I'm a simple kwami of simple pleasures. Where's the camembert?" His bulbous head swiveled to look around the bedroom, Adrien's shoulders dropping.

"C'mon, Plagg. You're as bad as Master Fu." Who he and Mari had just visited about an hour before. They'd tried to ask him about what they'd learned from Mr. Kubdel, but the older man had given them one of those knowing little smiles and blatantly avoided giving them any information—instead asking them questions back like some annoying teacher who wanted their students to find the answers for themselves.

"I don't know anything about anything," Plagg replied. "Besides, the old man was probably right—some things aren't necessarily for you two to know." The last comment Fu had bestowed upon them before they'd left. "None of your business and all that."

"I hate you…"

"Where's the camembert? I know you have some in here somewhere. I can smell it."

Sighing, Adrien went to his desk and pulled open the top drawer, where he had a stash of cardboard containers full of the foul smelling stuff. Plagg grabbed one immediately and was about to dump it out all over the desk.

"No. You got crumbs wedged in my keyboard last time," Adrien scolded. "Take that somewhere else."

Plagg glared at him, but took the box and flitted up toward the bookshelves, at least making his mess up on the second-level balcony.

Shaking his head, Adrien went to the bathroom, to the cabinets beneath the windows where he kept all his clothes. Pulling out his jeans and shirts, he then headed back out into the main room, thoughts going over the morning as he went about changing.

Master Fu really had been no help, a fact that he and Marinette had already spent a good chunk of the morning complaining about. And both Plagg and Tikki had remained tight-lipped on the subject, Tikki even going so far as to say that the "lives of past miraculous users were confidential." Adrien didn't quite understand why—they were all dead anyway. But no amount of reasoning had gotten them any answers, and so the two had parted in sour moods.

Of course, Adrien had more than lack of information to be sour over. Mostly the fact that he had to go to school and Marinette still wouldn't be there. The week was almost over, granted, so she'd be returning after the weekend, but still. He missed having her there. It was like the seat behind him was suddenly a gaping, empty hole. The feeling hung in the back of his head all day—like a cold spot. To the point where it made him anxious. Which, he supposed, was why he'd been spending nights with her instead.

That thought brought a flush to his cheeks as he pulled on his jeans. Neither he nor Mari had brought up the topic during their morning run—the fact that they'd slept wrapped in one another all night long. It was somehow easier to get on with the day by ignoring it. Like what happened between them during the night hours was to remain in the night hours. Which was ridiculous, really, but somehow relieving as well.

Adrien was torn on the subject. Part of him wanted to talk about it, to question her, while another part of him hoped that if they stayed silent, the whole thing would just keep on as it was. If they discussed it, then that could rock the boat—that could change things. Their current situation was pretty great, or so Adrien told himself. It was more than he'd ever thought he'd get from her, albeit nowhere near what he wanted. But disrupting things could result in the nightly visits coming to a stop altogether.

Better to be safe than sorry, even if it was tormenting him. He could withstand the torture—he had to.

Yanking his black shirt over his head, he smoothed away the wrinkles and reached down to grab his over-shirt off the floor. In the same moment, his attention caught on something outside his window. Something that had jumped from the wall surrounding the mansion.

Something coming in _fast_.

Eyes widening, Adrien watched as the figure raised its arm, what looked like a large, golden knife held in its hand. In one swift motion, it sliced through the window, Adrien watching the glass crumple like paper before the akuma landed steadily atop his couch.

Because Adrien knew an akuma when he saw one.

"I'm Papier Machette!" the akuma said, pointing the knife—a machete—directly at him. "I've come to collect you, Adrien Agreste."

Teeth gritting, Adrien stood with legs wide, posture ready as he balled his hands into fists. He couldn't very well call Plagg and transform, not with the akuma standing right there. He'd be giving away his identity to Hawkmoth, which he couldn't do no matter the cost. He'd simply have to deal with the akuma as best he could in his civilian form, until the opportunity to become Chat Noir presented itself.

He knew Plagg would stay hidden, at least until he called.

"What?" Adrien asked, feigning fear as he looked the akuma—a man—up and down.

"I've come to collect you," Papier Machette repeated, hopping over the couch. "For Ms. Bourgeois."

"Chloe?" Adrien asked. Great. She'd done it again. How many people had she akumatized now?

He needed to get his phone—he needed to contact Mari.

"Ms. Bourgeois requires you to be happy. I will bring you to her." Only half listening, Adrien glanced down at his sweatpants from that morning, his phone in one of the pockets. At the same time, Papier Machette took a step toward him.

Acting fast, Adrien kicked the pants back with his foot, sending them sliding toward his computer desk as he jumped back himself. Papier Machette picked up speed, barreling toward him with machete raised.

Spinning quickly, Adrien grabbed his heavy rolling chair, bracing himself and lifting it as he turned to face the incoming onslaught. He was just in time, the chair shielding him as the machete came down toward him.

Within the moment, the chair turned to paper, looking and feeling like a shiny magazine ad in Adrien's grip.

Eyes wide, he dropped the chair and leapt away.

"I want to collect _you_! Not your useless things!" Papier Machette glared at him.

"Now, that's a little harsh, don't you think?" Adrien asked, continuing to back away warily. "I thought that chair quite useful. Of course, it won't do much good as a sheet of paper."

"Be still!" Machette yelled. "You must be collected!"

"And you're in serious need of some fashion advice," Adrien went on, Machette approaching him slowly as he skirted back along his arcade wall. "What are you supposed to be, a paper cowboy?"

"Silence!" The akuma surged forward again, Adrien darting to the side as that machete came down and turned one of his classic arcade consoles into a large photograph.

"Yeah, I'm not really the quiet type," Adrien continued to taunt, edging around his couch. If he could just get back to his desk, to his phone.

"You will be," Papier Machette growled, clearly growing frustrated. Machete gripped tight, he marched directly for Adrien once again, who took his chance and vaulted over the couch, before pushing it forward and knocking it into Papier Machette.

The akuma howled in outrage, Adrien dashing for his phone. But before he could reach it, he heard a loud cracking and turned—just in time to see Machette grabbing hold of his television, plugs snapping from the outlets as he growled and threw it hard across the room.

With a crash, the television collided with Adrien's plethora of computer monitors, forcing him to jump back toward his bed.

But he wasn't quite fast enough. A shard of plastic burst toward him from the shattering debris, smacking him hard across the temple as he tried to turn away.

The force knocked him off balance, sending him flopping down onto his bed. Dazed and scrambling, Adrien clawed his way across the sheets, clambering to get away as Papier Machette stalked toward him. But the world was spinning around him, seeming to turn on itself as he sagged to the floor on the other side.

He could feel warmth streaking down along his cheek and jaw.

Blood.

"You cannot run from me," Machette claimed, closing in. Teeth gritting, Adrien scrambled to his feet, yanking his blanket off the bed and holding it up just as Machette was cornering him against his end table.

The machete came at him, slicing through the blanket and turning it to waxy paper.

"I will collect you," Machete claimed, only half a meter stretching between them. Gaping, Adrien reached around for his lamp, for anything he could use as a shield, but wasn't fast enough. That blade came down hard, slicing through him and turning the world still.

**oOo**

She was lying in bed, already bored with the day, when she heard it. A tapping on her skylight.

Blinking her eyes open, Marinette peered up, the harsh sunlight of the morning making it difficult to see. But there was a small silhouette there, tapping at the glass. A familiar silhouette, and one that drew Tikki flitting up beside her.

"Plagg?" Marinette questioned, sitting up as a feeling of cold dread washed through her. He was holding something, which explained why he didn't simply port through the window. Standing immediately, Marinette reached up and opened the glass, Plagg slipping in a soon as he'd fit.

He held Adrien's silver ring in his little paws.

"Where's Adrien?!" Marinette asked immediately, the sight of the ring unattached to its regular finger sending another wave of dread and terror through her. Add in Plagg's clearly distressed expression and she knew something was very, very wrong.

"There's an akuma," Plagg explained quickly. "It came and turned Adrien into a sheet of paper, before taking off with him."

"Why wasn't he wearing his ring? Why didn't he-"

"The akuma came in through the window, he couldn't transform without being seen," Plagg explained quickly. "And the miraculous can't be altered directly, at least, not by another miraculous. When he was turned into paper, his ring fell under his bed. I grabbed it as soon as I could. But," Plagg huffed, appearing abruptly winded, "with him so far- I can't- much longer-"

With a blurring flash, Marinette watched with wide eyes as Plagg disappeared, zipping inside the ring and turning it the deep black that Chat always wore. She caught it before it fell to her bed, holding the paw printed ring as her thoughts roiled.

"What happened?" she asked frantically, turning to Tikki.

"Too much distance has been put between Adrien and the ring," Tikki explained quickly. "Even if the desire to stay linked to Plagg remains, their connection has been stretched too thin. Adrien's been cut off."

"We have to do something," Marinette said firmly, cupping her hand around the ring. "We have to stop this akuma. And save Adrien!"

"Right!"

"Transform me!"

Bursting from the skylight, Ladybug only barely remembered to shut it behind her. Shoving Adrien's ring into the dirt of a potted plant nearby, she covered it before deeming the hiding place adequate. Not the best, but it'd have to do for now.

Vaulting up onto the roof, she pushed her legs into running down the length, only retrieving her yoyos once she was near the end. Casting one out, she watched it soar, hooking onto one of the ledges of Adrien's mansion. Teeth gritted, muscles straining, she swung out and around, yanking her yoyo free once she got a clear view of Adrien's tall windows.

One of the glass panes was gone, leaving her the space to simply swing inside over the sofa.

The room was a mess. The couch was dislodged, computer screens smashed, bed askew. And as Ladybug stood taller, the only other person in the room looked to her. If she remembered correctly, her name as Nathalie.

"Do you know what happened?" Ladybug asked, forcefully keeping her voice steady. If she didn't—if she couldn't focus completely on the task at hand—she feared her own anxiety would burst inside her. Would leave her panicking when that was the last thing she could afford to do.

"I heard a crashing so I ran up here," Nathalie explained, looking pale and startled as she clasped her hands together. "But the… the _thing_ it- it was already leaving out the window and Adrien- I can't find Adrien!"

"Do you know which direction it headed in?" Ladybug asked, remaining stern and unwavering.

"I- north. Northeast, I think. But what about Adrien? He's missing and- and there's blood!"

"Blood?" Ladybug asked dumbly, the word banging against the numb mental shields she'd erected, if only by willful force.

"Yes. On the bed. Wherever he is, he's hurt! You have to find him!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure the akuma has him," she said simply. "So long as I stop the akuma, I'll be able to rescue him." She didn't want to see the supposed blood, so she turned from the bed, heading back toward the window. She had only one clue—northeast. So that was where she'd start.

Hopping up on the windowsill, she swung to the roof, perching there as she turned her attention northeast—back the way she'd come. There was a slight breeze, but, overall, nothing out of the ordinary. Which wasn't what she wanted. The typical sounds of the city—of the traffic passing by and the buzzing discussion of countless soft voices—wasn't the noise she needed. For once, she wanted the screams and the running citizens. Anything that would lead her to the akuma that had taken Adrien.

The peaceful quiet allowed the anxiety to trickle in, her own heart beginning to beat erratically as she scoured the skyline continuously for anything.

No, she had to stay calm. She had to search.

Springing her yoyo out, she flew back onto the roof that led to her own, sprinting down the stretch and over the gap, to the corner where Master Fu's shop was located. She surveyed the street, eyes immediately dropping to the crowd of people in the middle of the road. Together, they appeared to be trying to trap something, shirts and coats used as nets. Cars were parked haphazardly all around, jamming traffic, and a few faces were turned to the sky.

It was a scene that was waiting for her.

Leaping out into the street, Ladybug landed in the middle of the crowd, startling a few close by.

"What happened here?" she demanded to know.

"Ladybug! Oh, thank goodness." A woman with her small child attached to her hand approached. "An akuma dropped down out of the hotel window." She pointed up at the Bourgeois place. "He had a- a huge knife and he turned an entire car, and the people inside, into- into _paper_!" As if to accent this point, a few of the people holding the loose clothes opened them, revealing a collection of paper bits that were no doubt the remains of the victims.

"We tried to collect as much as we could…" a young man said almost hopelessly.

"Don't worry, I'll get the akuma," Ladybug assured, hard gaze turning on the hotel. With little else said, she swung her way up to the window, which was still hanging open, and bounded inside.

The hotel was quiet as she entered, but two double doors were open at the end of the hall. Taking that as reason enough, she sprinted toward them, sliding through into a dining room where—perhaps not so surprisingly—stood Chloe.

"Chloe!" she said sternly, the blonde whipping around in surprise. Ladybug didn't pay any attention to the gruesome bruise across Chloe's nose.

"Ladybug!" she gasped, rushing forward. "I knew you'd come!"

"Was the akuma here?"

"Yes! He came bursting in and was waving around this big knife! It was scary. I was terrified. Oh, Ladybug, help me! He said he was going to come back!"

"Come back?" Ladybug questioned, putting her hands on Chloe's shoulders—if only to prevent the blonde from smothering her. "Why would he come back? Why was he here in the first place?"

"I- He…" Chloe's voice came to a stuttering halt, those flat, blue eyes darting to the side. She was clearly uneasy—hiding something. But Ladybug didn't have time for her games.

"Tell me, Chloe," she ordered. "Why was he here?"

"He- I- I don't know, I don't-"

"Don't lie to me!" Ladybug snapped, tone harsher than was typical of her. But this wasn't a typical situation. Her partner was in danger. She couldn't afford to be a pawn in whatever manipulation Chloe was concocting. "What's going on?!"

Chloe was clearly shocked, staring back in surprise, and Ladybug tightened her hold on her shoulders.

"Please, Chloe," she murmured a second later.

"He- He's my butler," she finally admitted. "The akuma. He said he was- was getting things for me. Things he thought I wanted. I- I was scared, so I sent him off. I told him I wanted a new Prada purse and he said he was going to get it, but-"

"Did he bring anything back with him when he was here last?"

Chloe didn't answer right away. Rather, her lips seemed to tighten, jaw clenching. Ladybug could see it, those gears turning, and she did her best not to scream in frustration.

"N-No," Chloe lied—right to her face. "There was nothing."

"Don't _lie_ to me!" Ladybug shouted, her tone causing Chloe to jump as fear flashed across her expression. "What did he bring you?!"

"Nothing!"

"Yes he did!"

"No, he didn't!" Chloe struggled against her hold, trying to wiggle away, but Ladybug was too strong. "Let me go! You're scaring me!"

"Then tell me where he is!"

"No! There's no one! There's nothing!"

" _Chloe_!"

"He's _mine_!"

Ladybug was about to lose it. "Tell me where he is?!"

" _No_!"

" _Chloe_!" she screamed. " _Where is Adrien_?!" Maybe it was the sheer force of her tone, how it screeched inside her, or perhaps the desperation lacing it. Or maybe even how her chest heaved, giving away her distress and panic and the feelings that had broken through her defenses without her even realizing.

"You're hurting me!" Chloe cried, tears dribbling down her cheeks. Because Ladybug was holding her too tightly, strength getting away from her. "He's in my b-bedroom!"

That was all Ladybug needed.

She dropped Chloe immediately, heart racing as she sprinted across the dining room—out into the hall that she knew led to Chloe's rooms. Pushing her way through the previously closed bedroom door, she surveyed everything as quickly as she could, before skipping through a curtained doorway into the bedchamber.

There, beneath the rose colored canopy of the bed, she saw the thin cutout. It rested atop the white satin sheets, paper head lying beside Chloe's ladybug pillow. Dashing over, Ladybug slowed as she peered down, the sight enough to slow her pulse.

It was like a giant magazine ad of Adrien, arms raised defensively as he flinched away from whatever was coming. There was a large gash above his temple, the streaking blood frozen in time as it leaked down across his cheek. And as though the trip from his bedroom to Chloe's had been rough, one of his papery knees and ankles were bent, a slight rip barely creasing his jeans.

Ladybug's hand was outstretched before her, as though she'd touch him, but then she paused—if only because she feared doing more damage.

It was horrible, really, the same nauseous horror that had overtaken her the night he'd disappeared at the hands of the Procrastinator assaulting every nerve in her body. She couldn't undo the damage done by the akuma, not until the source was freed of the butterfly. Which made it all the more pertinent that she not fail. This akuma had to be purified—there was no other option.

She had to save him.

"You can fix him, right?" Chloe's voice jarred between her temples, Ladybug quite unaware of her scowl as she turned to the blonde. Chloe was cowering at the end of the bed, cheeks still wet with tears as she looked between Adrien and the hero standing over him.

"Why did this happen?" Ladybug asked slowly, hand flexing in and out of a fist as she slowly lowered it to her side. "What is this akuma after?" The more she knew, the sooner she could end this.

"I don't know," Chloe replied, some of her meekness fading. Which was in no way surprising. If Chloe ever was meek, the expression never lasted long.

"You said he's _your_ butler," Ladybug replied. "Is there any reason he'd be upset?"

"Why would I know something like that?"

"Why would you…?" Ladybug muttered, eyeing Adrien one more time before she turned and stepped down away from the bed. "You said he was coming back, right? Is there anything on his person that the akuma could be hiding in?"

"I don't _know_ ," Chloe replied, finally beginning to straighten into her typical haughty posture, while Ladybug's shoulders seemed to sink. "He's my butler—I don't know any more about him than I have to."

Ladybug grit her teeth. "You said he was getting you things that you wanted." Things like Adrien and Prada bags—as though human lives could be exchanged for objects and claimed like property. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he likes to do what I say?"

Ladybug sighed through her nose. "I don't even know why I bother asking." She'd gone to the large windows, hands falling on the sill as she peered out into the Parisian morning. Both Adrien and Chloe were missing school now, along with her. But that hardly seemed of any import in comparison to the current situation. How small civilian life sometimes seemed, when she was Ladybug.

"It's not like it's my fault he went crazy," Chloe yammered on behind her. "I'm a victim here too, you know."

Quite frankly, Ladybug didn't have the patience to deal with Chloe. Not only was there still festering resentment as a result of her suspension, but she knew Chloe wasn't the victim she was claiming. Somehow, some way, she was part of this, even if she didn't know it. And, as a result, Adrien was in danger. _Chat_ was in danger. He'd been separated from his miraculous, left defenseless, and, somehow, she knew Chloe was at fault. Whether the akuma was the one acting or not, the blonde had something to do with it. She had too much of a track record causing emotional turmoil for Ladybug to consider otherwise.

"You're never a victim, Chloe," Ladybug muttered, still staring out the window—more so for a distraction than because she was searching for anything. The akuma would be back, more than likely, and she needed to be forming a plan. But she had no idea what this thing looked like, or what its weaknesses could be. Where its akuma was residing. And she knew Chloe wouldn't help.

"What do you mean? I'm always a victim," Chloe went on. "I feel like these akumas are constantly coming after me. Thankfully, you're usually there to save me, but-"

"They come after you, Chloe, because you cause them."

"Cause them? Doubtful."

"Akumas happen because you make people feel bad," Ladybug explained, finally turning back to her. "You hurt people, so then they get akumatized and go after you."

"Hurt people?" Chloe waved off the reasoning. "I'm nice to everyone."

"No, you're not."

"How would you know?"

"Because you've probably caused more akumas than any one person I've encountered," Ladybug rebuked coldly. "Hawkmoth creates akumas from the negative feelings inside people. That so many people have felt so poorly toward you says a lot about your behavior.

"I don't save you because I want to, Chloe. I save you because you don't give me any other choice." She turned back to the window.

For a moment, Chloe said nothing, Ladybug able to hear the way she shifted behind her. She liked to think the other girl was considering her words, taking them to heart, but she knew that was too much to hope for. Chloe may have admired Ladybug, but that influence only stretched so far. Rather, she knew it wouldn't stretch far enough.

"But…" Chloe was closer now, standing only about a meter behind her. "We've gotten to be pretty good friends because of it. That's worth it, to me…"

"'Worth it?'" Ladybug whipped around on her, the sheer audacity of the statement sending her already fluctuating temper skyrocketing. "There's nothing worth this, Chloe! Look what's happened!" She gestured sharply toward Adrien. "Innocent people are- are as good as dead right now! There's a poor, tortured soul being manipulated! People are in danger! No, that's not 'worth it!'"

"None of that's my fault…"

"Yes, it kind of is!" Ladybug dared to say. "If you were more considerate of other people's needs and feelings, then maybe this would stop happening! But you're not! All you care about is yourself and what you want! What about- What about what Adrien wanted?! Do you think he wanted to be terrorized and chased around?! Hurt and turned into- into nothing?!"

"I didn't do that! The akuma did! It's not my fault!"

" _You_ caused the akuma, Chloe!"

"I didn't!"

"Then how did this happen?!"

"I don't know!" she cried. "I didn't do anything! So just stop yelling at me!"

Stubbornly, Ladybug pursed her lips. She had to remain calm—otherwise she wouldn't be able to stop the akuma. She couldn't rise to Chloe's ridiculous attitude. Deep breaths. For Adrien. She had to save Adrien.

"Why are you being so mean to me…? I thought we were friends…"

And yet Chloe kept pushing her buttons. Not that Ladybug was somehow surprised. The irony of the situation was ludicrous, really. Because here Chloe was, claiming she thought they were friends, when less than a week before she'd gotten Marinette suspended.

"We've never been 'friends,' Chloe," Ladybug said darkly. She knew she shouldn't say such things—that she was a hero and should, therefore, always be the bigger person. But she knew, she _knew_ , that this was—one way or another—all Chloe's fault. She had the precedent to back up that claim. And, as a result, Adrien, her partner, the one person who could have helped her with this and that meant the world to her, was in danger. There was so much resentment toward Chloe built up inside her, she just couldn't hold it all back anymore. "Beyond anyone I've ever met, you cause both Chat Noir and I the most grief. It's our job to help those who Hawkmoth takes advantage of, and you create the perfect situations to give him power. And no matter how many times it happens, you take no responsibility for your actions."

"I don't-"

"You _do_!" Ladybug said firmly. "You hurt people, bully them, and show no remorse for doing so. It's my responsibility to protect people. How could I ever be friends with someone who cares so little for the feelings of others?"

"It's not my fault that-"

"But you do _hurt people_ ," Ladybug reiterated through gritted teeth. "And that's something I can't stand behind.

"We are not friends, Chloe. And we _never_ will be." No, she wasn't yelling, didn't have to raise her voice. But the words echoed sharply around the room nonetheless, turning weighty as they settled.

As they became final and concrete.

Maybe Chloe would have eventually found something to say—would have moved beyond her gaping shock—but before any sort of objection could be formed, they were interrupted.

Ladybug no longer had the time to waste on Chloe Bourgeois.

"I knew you'd come," the akuma said as he stood in the curtained doorway, Ladybug's posture turning defensive as she narrowed her gaze at him. "Like a moth to the flame, a hero always shows their true nature."

"I suppose we're all stuck in our habits," she replied. "So I guess that means this doesn't bode well for Hawkmoth."

"You've never dealt with a force equal to mine," the akuma said, pulling a machete from a sheath at his side. "I am Papier Machette. Now give me your miraculous." In the same moment, a sheet of paper in the shape of a yellow purse fluttered to the floor—no doubt what he'd gone to retrieve on Chloe's behalf.

Chloe, who'd shuffled over beside the bed and crouched down, staring with wide eyes as the exchange went on around her.

"Come and get it," Ladybug practically threatened, akuma generally needing no invitation.

Streamers fluttering off his costume, he lunged right at her, machete raised to strike. She saw the move coming, of course, and took the second she had to survey all she could—to try and find his weakness. The akuma could be in the machete of course, but why would Chloe's butler have something that would transform into such a weapon on his person?

Maybe it'd previously been a knife?

She darted out of the way, rolling to the side and away from the bed where Chloe hid and Adrien lay defenseless. Papier Machette came to a stumbling halt before the windows, turning to Ladybug with a scowl.

But if the akuma was in the machete, how was the weapon significant? Generally, akuma possessed something of importance to or representative of the victim. Could the machete really be that imperative?

She knew nothing about the butler—not even his name. If only Chat Noir were here. He'd known Chloe forever and would likely be more familiar with this man.

Hoping for the impossible, however, did her no favors.

Papier Machette slashed at her again, Ladybug bending back and flipping twice through the air, hands raised defensively before her upon landing. In the same moment, Machette's blade slashed through a nearby sofa—beside where Ladybug had previously been standing—and the whole thing burst into clippings of paper.

It didn't matter if the machete wasn't where the akuma was hiding—she had to get it away from him anyway. Before she was turned into tiny paper bits. This wasn't a fight she could afford to waste time on, or let escalate.

It had to be finished swiftly and without opportunity for recourse.

Pulling up her spare yoyo, she sprang it forward, attempting to catch Machette by the arm. He dodged the attack, swerving to the side. Which was fine with Ladybug—it postponed the offensive he'd been about to run at her.

Throwing her other yoyo into the air, she called out, "Lucky Charm!" before strapping the spare back to her hips. A moment later, a large, battery powered fan covered in red with black spots fell into her arms.

She had only moments to come up with a strategy, eyes darting swiftly around the room. The fan, her yoyos, the thick, stylized support beams running across the ceiling, and Papier Machette.

The plan folded out before her.

Grabbing a yoyo, she cast it out so as to give herself some slack before wrapping the string swiftly around the back support of the fan. With the string tied in place, she set the fan down on the floor, turned it on "high," and tossed her other yoyo up to the support beam directly above her head.

Just before Machette was about to come down on her, she zipped up, the fan lifting into the air as she abused some of the slack from the yoyo tied to it.

The level was perfect, the fan hovering just at shoulder level with Machette as he turned his head up to watch her.

Teeth gritting, she kept her second yoyo faithfully tied to the support beam before jumping out. Toes pointed, she swung down toward him, feet making contact with his chest before he had the chance to slice down at her. The hit threw him back, causing him to collide with the spinning fan as Ladybug rebounded off him.

The streamers of his costume caught in the blades, twisting and tangling and latching him to the fan.

Finally touching down on the ground, Ladybug holstered one yoyo before grabbing the string of the one anchored to the fan. Pulling with all her strength, she yanked it like a pulley over the beam, Machette shouting in outrage as he was lifted off the ground.

His back and neck collided hard with the beam, the impact so severe that he dropped his machete to the floor below. The blade clattered, bouncing and spinning before coming to a stop at Ladybug's feet.

Still holding Machette aloft, she stepped out and stomped at the weapon. But though she broke the hilt, no butterfly emerged.

She had yet more work to do.

Whipping her head back up to Machette, she scoured his person, looking for anything that could hold the akuma before he found some way to escape her trap.

His costume was a suit of full white, which allowed anything with color to stand out. Perhaps when she'd kicked him, or the force of the blow when she'd slammed him into the support beam, had done it, but a thin chain had come loose from the inside of his collar. There was a charm attached to it, dangling from his neck as he struggled against the fan.

That had to be it.

Using Papier Machette's weight to her advantage, she jumped up toward the beam, the slack caused in her yoyo string allowing him to plummet back toward the floor.

They passed each other, Ladybug reaching out and grabbing hold of the chain as she flew up by him. The metal snapped, Machette thudding to the floor as she caught herself atop the support beam.

Glancing down at the charm, she quickly evaluated it. It was thin and flimsy, small tick marks in the cheap paint looking like failed attempts at feather details, which resulted in it resembling a golden blade instead. The craftsmanship was juvenile, even for paper mache. Likely made by a child.

Without a second thought, Ladybug snapped the charm in half, watching in relief as that familiar black butterfly flitted out.

Wasting no time, she aimed and tossed her yoyo, purifying the butterfly before sending it on its way. Dropping down to the floor just as the akuma victim was returning to his regular self, she grabbed the fan and threw it, shouting her "Miraculous Ladybug" chant before the sparkling ladybugs flashed through the room.

And as they grazed through the canopy bed, Ladybug dashed over. Just as she was reaching the steps up, the ladybugs erupted away and through the windows, leaving Adrien—fit and breathing and perfect—atop Chloe's sheets.

She didn't care that she was smiling as she looked upon him, or that the sight of him gradually blinking awake nearly drew tears of relief to her eyes. Ignoring the scene around her, she reached forward and slipped one arm under his knees while the other wove around his shoulders. In one swift motion, she lifted him from the bed, turning her attention to the windows as he glanced up at her in surprise.

Stiffening, he gripped at her shoulder—if only to make up for the rush of being picked up so swiftly—while Ladybug scanned the windows until she spotted the balcony doors. With only one quick look to make sure both Chloe and her butler were safe and normal, she headed directly across the room before pulling her leg up and using her foot to push down on the door handle. Shoving her way out, she held Adrien tighter as she hopped up on the balcony banister, balancing herself as the people milling about in the street awed and pointed up at them.

"Hold on," she ordered simply.

"O-Okay," Adrien replied, leaning up and wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. His chin was on her shoulder as she shifted one arm from under his knees to his upper thighs, the other retrieving her yoyo before she cast it out across the street. With an easy leap, they were airborne.

Adrien's hold on her tensed as they flew, Ladybug ignoring (as best she could) the way his hair shifted across her cheek. It wasn't until they'd landed and she'd replaced her yoyo that she wrapped her arm up under his back again, supporting him as she sprinted down the line of connected roofs.

He kept his arms linked around her neck, seeming no more relaxed.

"My ring?!" he exclaimed in her ear a few seconds after landing.

"I have it, don't worry," she assured. "Plagg came to get me after the akuma captured you."

"Oh, thank god." She could feel the way he sighed in relief against her, just a bit of tension leaving his form. But it tightened back up as she reached the gap between their side of the roofs and her parents' bakery. Hitting the edge, she squeezed him closer as she vaulted into the air, easily making the distance without her yoyo as she skidded down onto her own balcony.

Her miraculous beeped, but she ignored it.

Rather, despite some slight hesitation, she set Adrien down on his bare feet before going quickly to her potted plant. Digging around quickly, she found the ring. Blowing the dirt away, she turned and held it out to him, Adrien obviously relieved upon seeing it. Taking it quickly, he slipped it back onto his finger.

Within the moment, the black leaked away to leave it silver, Plagg spinning out to hover before them. The little kwami looked just as stunned as he had when he'd first come to Marinette for help, eyes wide as he looked quickly around. Searching, until his focus landed on Adrien.

"Plagg!" Adrien exclaimed, reaching out and cradling the kwami, before pulling him in close. Plagg's bulbous head butted gently against Adrien's blonde bangs, Ladybug grinning as she heard the telltale sounds of a purr vibrating out of that little black body. Adrien was smiling, laughing a bit, and looking quite as though his whole world had almost been yanked out from under him.

Ladybug still felt a little like hers had been too.

"C'mon," she said quietly, guilty at interrupting the moment. "You need to get back home and I only have a little time left."

Adrien cocked an eyebrow at her, finally lowering Plagg just a bit—Plagg, who was contentedly cuddled up against Adrien's palms. "I think I can walk, Ladybug. It's not that far."

"Not without any shoes," she scolded lightly. "And not magically from my balcony." She approached him swiftly, Adrien shying away a bit, but unable to get away as she hefted him off his feet, bridal style once again.

"Mari!" he squawked, while she shifted him in her arms.

"Ladybug," she corrected, still grinning as she hopped up onto her banister before leaping back up onto the roof.

"I can get home myself!" he claimed, pouting up at her. "Bare feet or not, I'm Chat Noir."

"It's not that far," she said, quite aware of the high rising in her chest at having him there once more, and also deciding to ignore it. "It's a waste of a transformation." Picking back up into a run, she dashed down the line of roofs, Adrien groaning in her arms and slumping against her—as if in continued protest.

Ladybug noticed the slight redness to his cheeks, but knew she was doing no better and so decided it wisest not to mention it.

Adrien, with Plagg having flitted inside his shirt, reached up and linked his arms tightly around her neck again—as they reached the end of the rooftops—and Ladybug once more drew her yoyo and soared over the distance. This time, she didn't go to his bedroom window, but landed at the back door. Standing in the courtyard, her final spot vanished and her transformation flashed out.

With Adrien still in her arms.

"Oh, crap," she strained to say, before toppling forward.

Thankfully, Adrien freed himself of her grip and landed steadily on his feet, holding her shoulders as she surged into him. With her hands landing on his chest for leverage, they managed to stop a total fall, Marinette peering up at him with scarlet cheeks as he laughed.

"You're falling for me, My Lady," he joked.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, hesitating for just a second before pushing away from him. She was grateful she'd already been red-faced before his stupid pun.

"Don't be like that," she reprimanded. "That woman who's with you sometimes, she was really worried about you. Go inside." She gestured to the mansion, both thankful and disappointed when his hands slipped from her shoulders.

"Nathalie?" he asked, turning toward the house.

"I guess? She saw the akuma take off with you and your room was in pretty bad shape. You should go tell her you're okay."

"Thanks to you," he said, turning back and grinning.

"You're welcome," she said, reaching out and pushing him toward the house. "Now go."

"Really." He fought her, reaching out and gripping her arm lightly, expression abruptly serious. "Thank you. I… Thank you, Marinette."

Her cheeks flushed anew. "Just go inside, okay?" she said quietly, facing pointedly away from him. But his hand remained holding her arm, fingers gripping a little harder. All at once, the night prior flashed through her head, deepening her blush. It was those same fingers that had held her hand all night long, and the others that had sent chills through her whole body when they'd lightly caressed her bare side. Something she'd let him do when she could have backed out, and something he'd continued to do despite having the same option.

The memory sent her heart racing, his fingertips seeming to burn where they presently held her.

"I'll go in, but only if you come with me," he murmured, which pulled her attention his way again. "Tikki's tired." He pointed to the kwami dozing on Marinette's shoulder. "Let's get her something, then you can go back home."

"…Okay." There was a chance her parents would notice she was gone, but she wasn't grounded anymore. And they did have a backdoor.

Besides, she wanted to go in with him. Any time with him she could get, she'd take.

Smiling gently, Adrien held her arm a second longer, before turning to pad across the courtyard. Marinette followed, careful as she put Tikki in her purse and stepped through the door Adrien held open for her.

She'd been in his house before, as Ladybug, but it was still impressive. With its high ceilings, grand staircases, and stylish decor, it seemed looming in its presence, and somehow… cold—something she hadn't noticed in the rush last time.

It was quiet now, their breathing the only thing that echoed between them. Until Adrien called out, his voice bouncing almost harshly off the walls and between the pillars. "Nathalie?!"

Hands clasping together in front of her, Marinette fidgeted, abruptly nervous.

"Adrien?" It wasn't a woman's voice that spoke down to them. Rather, heads whipping up toward the stairs, the two teenagers watched as Gabriel Agreste appeared out of the darkened corridor. He came to stand at the top of the stairs, Marinette unable to read his stoic expression as he folded his hands at his back.

"F-Father," Adrien sputtered out, apparently surprised at his father's presence.

Above them, Gabriel sighed, looking Adrien up and down before flicking his gaze to Marinette. He hardly gave her a second's attention before he was glancing once again at Adrien. With a heavy breath that was almost loud in the silence, he stepped forward, descending the stairs until he was standing directly before them.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel asked shortly, looking Adrien up and down again. Both Gabriel and his son's postures were rigid, awkwardness apparent between them. The discomfort was so thick that it almost felt like Marinette was being pushed back out the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Adrien said, tone stiff. "Ladybug rescued me, so… nothing to worry about."

"Of course. I'm… glad she did so." Gabriel's steely stare deviated to the floor, lips pursing a bit. Marinette wasn't sure how to interpret the expression—whether it was some sort of guarded relief or… something else. The whole exchange baffled her, and left her heart going out to Adrien.

A new silence stretched between them, Marinette feeling more and more like an intruder the longer she stood by. And, oddly enough, she thought Gabriel and Adrien were feeling much the same.

"Uh, this- this is Marinette," Adrien said after the quiet had gone on far too long. "I was… coming back from the scene and we ran into each other. She volunteered to walk me home."

Gabriel's sharp gaze went her way again, a short, huffing breath leaving his nose as he surveyed her. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You were the student who won the design competition—I remember."

"I- Y-yes, Sir," she mumbled out, doing her best to keep eye contact with the tall man, and fashion icon, but ultimately failing. Instead, she stared down at the tiled floor, fingers fidgeting together before her.

"It was a very good design," he went on. "I hope you pursue the talent."

That drew her attention quite forcefully his way again. "I plan to," she managed to cough out.

"Good. And thank you, for escorting my son home." He took a step forward, eyes still on Marinette as he came up on Adrien's right, standing almost between them as he reached up and clasped Adrien's shoulder. An action that Marinette saw visibly caused Adrien to flinch and his green eyes to widen. "I was… deeply concerned after learning what was happening."

"S-sure," Marinette sputtered, gulping but managing to hold eye contact this time. Gabriel looked her over again, almost deliberately, and Marinette felt her nerves prickling in discomfort. She couldn't read this man, could make nothing of him, and felt almost naked before him. Like he could see everything inside her that she'd always kept hidden.

Discomfort was an understatement, Marinette beginning to understand why Adrien's relationship with his father was such a struggle.

"Your earrings," Gabriel said abruptly, tone soft. He reached out in the same moment, one hand still on Adrien's shoulder as the other pierced through her personal space and lifted gently on the lobe of her ear. She stiffened, struck still by both Gabriel's actions as well as her ignorance in how to respond. "They're quite interesting." And yet she held eye contact with him. "I believe I… pointed out as much the last time you were here."

_The last time…?_

"Adrien?!" The woman—Nathalie—appeared in the large doorway to the left, seeming to snap away any and all tension. Smoothly, Gabriel turned to her, his hands retreating from both Marinette and Adrien to once again clasp together behind his back.

Yet, despite the distance, as well as her personal space, being returned, Marinette felt cold. Her cheeks leaked of their warmth to be replaced by pale shock, no words able to come to her lips even if she'd wanted them. Partly, she wanted to flee, but her feet felt like they were strapped into iron boots, too heavy to lift.

"Oh, thank god," Nathalie said, posture dropping with relief as she cut across the room toward them.

"Everything has been righted," Gabriel assured. "Thanks to Ladybug." A name that actually caused Marinette to flinch as it left Gabriel's lips. Never before had her own persona sounded so foreign.

"I'm fine, Nathalie," Adrien replied. "Just a little shaken, but that's all."

She nodded, any distress quickly getting covered by a neutral mask—one that Marinette recognized as something Adrien sometimes wore. And an expression she was having a very difficult time locating for herself in those moments.

"You must be tired," Gabriel decided after a moment, looking down at his son. "You should go to your room and rest."

"Uh, s-sure," Adrien agreed awkwardly, likely because the "suggestion" didn't actually leave Adrien with any other choice. "I just- I'll walk Mari out." Gabriel nodded, taking a step back as Adrien turned to Marinette. It was only his soft guidance—the way he gently brushed her shoulder and gestured her back toward the door—that allowed her to find motion at all.

Leaving Gabriel and Nathalie behind, they went back out the way they'd come, Adrien making sure the door closed firmly behind him.

"Mari…?"

"Your father," she choked out. "He knows who I am." A fact that Adrien knew just as well as she did, if the way his expression dropped had anything to say on the matter. There was only one other time she'd been in the Agreste house with Gabriel's knowledge and she'd been Ladybug then. That was the only way his father could have recognized her earrings—if he'd put together her alter ego. "How…" she glanced searchingly up at Adrien. "How does he know?"

Adrien's lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

"Did you tell him?" she dared to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No!" Adrien reached out, slipping a hand gently over her shoulder. "I wouldn't- I would never- Not on purpose."

"Then how does he _know_?"

She watched with a growing sense of doubt as Adrien floundered to speak. As his gaze dropped from hers, shoulders slumping. Almost as though he were… ashamed.

"Adrien…?"

He swallowed hard. "It's my fault," he admitted quietly. "He recognized my ring. A while ago, I think. Probably because he saw it in that book. I- I think he figured it out when we were fighting Simon Says. And then he… he confronted me the night he caught me putting… putting his book back in his safe."

"Adrien…"

"I'm sorry…"

"How could you, Adrien?" she asked quietly, unable to hide the hurt in her tone. Which was probably what drew his gaze back to hers. "Our identities are what keep us _safe_. If- if my parents had found out about me, I wouldn't have let you come around. I'd make sure you stayed as far away as you could. If one of us is found out, it wouldn't take much to figure out the other." Not with how much time they'd been spending together. "How could you invite me in? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know he'd be here," Adrien said quietly. "And I…"

"I would have told you," she went on. "If my parents found out, I would tell you. I would _warn_ you. Why didn't you _tell me_?"

"I didn't- I know… I know how important it is that we keep our identities secret. Especially to you. And I- I didn't want… I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" she asked, head shaking lightly as she reached up and gently pushed his hand off her shoulder. "That's not what this is about. This is about security. About- About the fact that if something like this happens, you need to be honest about it. How could you keep this from me?" She felt betrayed. After all they'd been through and with him knowing how important their identities were. Not only for their own safety, but for the safety of their loved ones. If she'd known, she'd have stayed clear of his father. She'd have been able to protect herself.

As it were, she'd walked right into her own vulnerability. Something he could have prevented if he'd just told the truth.

"I- I didn't know how to tell you," he tried to explain. "Master Fu had just said how important it was that we protect our identities and I…" Protect them, that was, from everyone but each other. "I failed…"

"And you failed me too," she said, her words spurred by her own hurt over his actions. "I would have protected you from this if someone figured me out. I would have done everything I could." Even if that meant he couldn't come around anymore. "How could you _lie_ to me?"

"I didn't… lie… I-"

"Lying by omission is still lying, Adrien," she countered. "I never thought _you'd_ lie to me." Of everyone she trusted, she'd put him highest on that list. After everything they'd been through together, she trusted him explicitly. She'd never doubted him. Why had he done this?

"Mari, please, I didn't mean- I didn't _think_. I'm sorry. I was- I was ashamed and I didn't know how to face you. You're right. I messed up. I wasn't… thinking about… about our safety. I wasn't thinking about yours. I…" He searched her gaze, eyes flicking back and forth, but Marinette had already put up shields. If only to try and prevent her own hurt from leaking through.

"How could you do this…?" she whispered.

"I- It- It's okay, Mari," he started, trying to reach out to her. But she backed away from him, uncertain she'd be able to hold herself together if he touched her. His whole expression fell. "My father he- he's a lot of things, but he won't betray us."

"How do you know?" she asked brokenly. "He's overprotective of you, isn't he? How do you-" Her jaw tightened, realization suddenly dawning on her. "That's how you're doing it, isn't it? How you're getting your way lately. It's not because he's listening to you. You're not… You're not giving him any other choice, are you?" Adrien's hands balled into fists, the way he looked away answer enough. " _Adrien_ …"

"You don't understand."

"I understand enough!" she said sharply, despite how her voice shook and broke inside her. "I understand that he knows who you are, and who I am, and that you're… you're _blackmailing_ him to get what you want! What if he gets angry enough to do something?! What if he decides to… to reveal us?!"

"He won't!"

"How do you know?!"

"Because I threatened to run away and never come back if he did anything."

"Adrien!"

"What?! You don't get it! I didn't have any other choice!"

"There's always a choice!"

"Like what? Give him my ring? He asked me to give it up, Mari! To quit being Chat Noir! I had to do something!"

"Not this!" she rebuked. "This isn't a defense! It's a _risk_! You're playing a dangerous game! And now you've dragged me into it!"

"It's not like that!"

"How could you do this to me?"

"Mari, _please_!"

But her defenses were finally breaking, leaving her exposed. Exposed in a place she didn't feel safe.

"I _trusted_ you…" Or, rather…

She'd had no choice but to do so.

Adrien's expression broke. "My Lady…"

But she was backing away, head shaking as she stepped down the porch steps. She didn't want to be there, didn't want to have to face him in this anymore. It hurt too much—the wound was too fresh—and seeing him with such an injury hovering between them, after all the time they'd spent together, was just too painful. Especially when part of her simply wanted to forget it'd happen—wanted to fall in his arms and ignore the reality of what he'd done.

But she couldn't. He'd…

 _Betrayed her_.

So she ran.

She dashed through the gate and out into the street, teeth gritting in her final attempts to keep her emotions at bay. Sprinting down the street, she hardly looked for traffic, too preoccupied with the thought of home. Of her own bedroom and the safety of its walls.

It wasn't until she skirted through the bakery—thankful it was too busy for her parents to pay her much attention—and scrambled up the stairs that a single tear dripped down her cheek. Clambering up her own stairs, she pushed her way into her bedroom just as she was overcome, legs shaky as she closed the door behind her.

She glanced up at her bed, perhaps wanting to throw herself into it only to be bombarded by memories of the last three nights. When he'd been there, providing her with an intimacy so precious that the thought of him _lying_ to her felt as though it'd rip her chest open.

Sniffing, she sank to the floor, giving in to the tears fully and not even trying to quell them as they streaked down her cheeks.

"Marinette?" It was Tikki, her high-pitched voice hovering somewhere near Marinette's ear. She sounded tired, strained, but all Marinette could really register was the painful thudding of her heart in her chest.

"How could he do this, Tikki?" she gasped out, wanting so desperately to be angry and only managing to make herself more upset. "How could he lie to me?! I never thought Chat would lie to me!"

"Marinette…"

"I trusted him." He was her partner, the one person in the whole world that understood what it was like. She'd been nervous about revealing her identity to him, but since realizing that Master Fu was right, that they were stronger together, such things had evaporated. She'd thought trusting him had been the right decision. So how had this happened? It was something she'd never even fathomed he'd do.

"Oh, Marinette." Tikki flitted up in front of her, tiny paws reaching out and delicately wiping at the salty tears at the edges of her eyes. The attention drew Marinette's own, lips cringing as she searched Tikki's understanding expression—one that was accented by a small smile.

"Tikki…?"

"I don't think he meant to lie to you, Marinette," she said softly. "And I think you know that too."

"But- He- Our identities! Someone _knows_!" Which was no small detail.

"I know, and it's very serious. I'm not contradicting that. But, Marinette, you know he'd never hurt you on purpose. He gets scared, just like you."

No, it wasn't that simple. "He should have told me. There's no excuse for that!"

And, yet, Tikki looked at her in the same way a mother would a child who was throwing a fit over nothing. A soft kind of patronization that Marinette didn't understand.

"Can you really fault him for being afraid?" Tikki asked, Marinette's eyebrows scrunching together in offended confusion. "You didn't want to tell him your identity in the first place and Chat's always done everything in his power to please you. He was just afraid he'd disappoint you. And can you really blame him? You just fulfilled every fear he had."

"…What?"

"He tried to apologize. You know he'd do anything for you—risk his very life for you—and when he has one slipup, you run away? How is that fair, Marinette?"

"But… he…?"

"He made a mistake." Tikki sighed. "You have such high expectations. Of yourself and everyone around you. It makes you strong, determined, and gives you follow through. You're a perfectionist—usually only when it comes to yourself. But other people see it. You put a lot of pressure on yourself—I knew that the first day you ever became Ladybug and you wanted to give up after only one failure. But now that you're a team, now that you've let him be close to you, Adrien feels that pressure too.

"You know what his family life is like, Marinette," Tikki continued, voice very quiet—as though she were trying to scold Marinette as gently and civilly as possible. "If there's anything he's afraid of, it's disappointing _you_. Of doing something wrong and failing _you_.

"How could you listen to him admit to his wrongs and then agree with him? Marinette… You hurt him so much worse than he hurt you."

"But…?"

" _I'm_ disappointed in _you_." Words that had never before left Tikki's mouth. She'd always been encouraging, with exception to Marinette doing things that were generally dangerous or illegal. Never before had the weight of such a claim, especially coming from Tikki, hit Marinette so hard.

Gaping, tears slowly drying, she watched as Tikki frowned, before the little kwami drifted tiredly to the desk and the stack of cookies that remained from the night before. Marinette stared after her, blinking and slowly trying to process what had just happened.

She had the right to be upset, didn't she? He'd lied and hidden something huge from her. That justified her being distressed. And yet-

Perhaps what Tikki was saying wasn't that she'd overreacted, but that she'd… reacted in the wrong way? She'd been so shocked by the whole situation, and betrayed, had she really behaved inappropriately?

Tikki was right, after all. Chat—Adrien—he'd never done anything to hurt her, not purposefully. More often than not, he was putting _himself_ in harm's way. He'd never lied to her before this and he had tried to apologize. He'd tried to explain, but she…

She hadn't wanted to listen. She'd been too preoccupied with her own hurt feelings to even register when she'd hurt his.

He hadn't intended for this to happen, and she'd thrown it in his face.

A realization that only made her feel _worse_.

"Marinette?!" Her father's abrupt voice jolted her from her revelation, his tone both loud and urgent. "MARINETTE?!"

"W-What?" she stammered, the door to her bedroom flying open almost violently. Tikki zipped back into her purse in the same moment.

"Get downstairs!" he ordered, Marinette only given seconds to take in his pale complexion and heavy breathing. "We have to get out of the house!"

"Wha-"

"There's a fire," he explained shortly. "Down on the other corner. We don't know how far it could spread across the complex. Now, let's go! We have to get out!"

Nodding, Mariette got quickly to her feet, a rush of adrenaline spurring her down the stairs after her father as she gripped her purse in her hand, Tikki's little body outlined against the fabric.

Going as quickly as they could, they dashed down and out, her mother waiting just outside the bakery as they hit the sidewalk. In the same moment, the sounds of sirens came blaring down the street, all those who lived in the connected complex gathering on the sidewalk parallel.

Fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, they all passed swiftly before Marinette was being hurried by her parents to join their neighbors on the other side of the road. Despite their protective handling, she peered over her shoulder at the scene. At the smoke clouding the sky and the hot flames licking up from the corner down the street.

From the small, familiar shop.

Master Fu's shop.


	9. Part One - The Incoming Fog

Gaping, Marinette watched with growing horror as the flames stretched higher and higher, the spray from the recently aimed fire hoses arcing over and above, trying to wash it all out despite the plumes of smoke continuing to billow up from the roof. All around, the crowd gathered—either from the attached complex or from other places nearby. The police had backed them up further, trying to keep people away from the scene, which left Marinette at the mercy of the public. The mercy of her parents too, for that matter.

Her father had his hands clasped protectively on her shoulders, holding her before him as though the flames would spark out and take her at any moment. She wanted to leave them, to find a place to transform and, just, do something. But there was no way she could sneak off without worrying them. Tikki was still tired besides.

Yet, as the seconds ticked by, she only grew more anxious. Where was Master Fu? It was his shop—shouldn't he be visible somewhere, close by to the damage or with the police? Somewhere obvious? But she couldn't spot him anywhere, that fact hammering her nerves with every beat of her heart.

Where was he?

She didn't want to fathom it, that he was still inside. But it was a reality she couldn't ignore and one that left her feeling more and more helpless as she watched. She had to figure out a way to do something—it was her responsibility!

"Look, there!" Someone nearby pointed back toward the bakery, gazes flicking to watch as a single figure leapt down atop the corner, crouching in his familiar black suit and topped with a messy mop of blonde hair.

"Chat Noir," Marinette murmured, watching intently as he crept closer to the blaze. Not too close, obviously wary, before he stood up straight and scanned the crowd. Looking for Master Fu, probably. His eyes passed over her, a look of serious concentration beneath his mask. He surveyed the crowd at least three times—despite how his sharp eyes would have found what he was looking for the first time—before turning with a cringe to face the blaze.

Marinette knew what he was going to do before he did it.

"No…" she whispered out, jolting in her father's arms as Chat sprang forward and sprinted toward the fire. In the same moment, her mother's hand came out and latched to her arm, as if to work in congruence with the steady hold her father had placed on her previously.

Leaping, Chat vaulted into the flames, the crowd shouting out as he disappeared into the smoke. Marinette gasped, her hands going to her mouth while her mother's hold on her arm tightened.

Waiting was torture. For everyone, sure, but worse for Marinette. Her heart felt like it'd stopped dead in her chest, posture tense as the moments ticked by. Even with their suits making them near indestructible, she and Chat couldn't fight off everything. Perhaps the fire wouldn't burn them right away, but the smoke inhalation was still deadly. Which meant that Chat had just as much time in there as a regular person.

And just as little to return to them.

It felt like every single person in the vicinity was holding their breath, a sort of silence overcoming all but those who worked to put out the blaze. Everyone had seen Chat vanish into the fire and Marinette wanted—more than anything—to be in her Ladybug suit. To be at his side—if only to simply know what was happening.

But minutes were beginning to pass and her teeth grit together almost painfully. Her father still had her by the shoulders, hands holding her tighter in his own bated waiting. Time stretched and Marinette fidgeted almost violently, her mother's nails digging painfully into her skin.

If she transformed, they wouldn't be able to stop her. Tikki could probably manage it—would have to.

He wasn't coming out! Even if it meant revealing her identity to the world—if that was what it took to know—to save him if she had to.

Where was he?!

Their previous conversation—no, argument—flashed through her thoughts, the idea that such could very well be the last exchange she'd had with him pulling a strangled moan from her throat. The smoke was harsh, even at that distance, and she blinked against it, eyes dampening in futile defense.

It'd been too long. She had to _do something_.

Her mother's nails felt like a brand on her skin, painful, but somehow having no effect against the sheer persistence of her desperation.

Chat wasn't reappearing!

And she knew it'd now been too long.

She had to do something! It could already be too late!

Teeth still grinding together, she reached up, as though to forcefully remove her father's hold from her shoulders, but was yanked urgently backward in the same moment.

The wall to Master Fu's shop had exploded, the crowd gasping once again. The firemen and police scurried back, charred debris flying before a thin figure staggered out. He was hunched, tail dragging, and carried a small form in his arms.

Paramedics rushed in.

And the tears that fell from the corners' of Marinette's eyes weren't due to the smoke, but, rather, the result of poignant relief.

Her mother's hand slipped away, leaving bloodied nail marks through the fabric of her shirt.

Chat stumbled out, coughing violently as the arms of the paramedics reached in to take the small man he carried from his arms. Two gurneys were rushed forth, one quickly getting taken up by the body of Master Fu while the other was situated closer to Chat. But he waved off the attention despite how he continued to buckle over, coughing the smoke from his lungs.

A single paramedic dared get up in his personal space. Not to force him to the gurney, but to shove a facemask across his nose and mouth. Eyes wide, Chat reared up in surprise, but didn't yank the mask off. Rather, chest heaving, he took in the fresh air, reaching out to steady himself on the shoulder of the paramedic as he did.

Marinette wanted to go to him, but her father's hands were still heavy on her shoulders. That, and there was a good chance the police wouldn't let her near the still burning building. She went to free herself anyway, stepping out from under her father's grip, but as she did, Chat took a step back from the face mask. Shaking his hair of debris and wiping grime across his face, he turned despite the paramedic's objections. A little slower than usual, he jumped up on one of the fire trucks, before jogging down the length of it and bounding onto a section of the connected roofs not burning. Back the way he'd come.

Marinette watched him, lips pursing as he stumbled just a bit before running on all fours from the scene. He'd used his powers to burst through the wall, so his transformation would be fading. She didn't know if he'd get back home in time, no matter how close that was. Or if he was really alright.

She almost went after him, daring to vanish into the crowd despite how doing so would likely panic her parents, but before she could, her mother came up and grabbed her arm again, causing her to snap around.

"They're taking Mr. Fu to the hospital," she explained, her father hovering only a short distance behind with a concerned expression.

"Mr. Fu…" Marinette said, somewhat dazed.

"The man who owns the massage parlor," Sabine explained. "He said you and Adrien stop by to see him sometimes, on your runs."

"Right, yes," Marinette forced herself back to reality. "Is he alright? Is-Is he okay?"

"I don't know," Sabine continued. "We'll have to call and see later on. He doesn't have any family…" Having turned away, Sabine was watching the ambulance, which was just pulling away with blaring sirens. Marinette watched as well, until it passed, before turning her attention back on her mother.

"How do you know Mas- Mr. Fu?"

Her mother smiled warmly. "I've been bringing him baked goods for years," she replied, looking sad. "Every week."

"Oh…" Marinette had never known.

"We should back up more," Tom issued, taking them both gently by the shoulders. "The police are pushing people back."

Nodding, Marinette followed her parents' lead, fumbling after them despite how she looked over her shoulder in the direction Chat Noir had gone. He was out of sight now, hopefully safe. She had no way of knowing, or of contacting him. Her phone was in her bedroom, leaving her cut off from him. And she couldn't transform, not with her family keeping her so close.

Master Fu… Why had this happened? Would he be okay?

It was almost too much, too many things happening too fast, and after a day that had seemed a whirlwind within itself. She didn't even know where to start, let alone where to look for the end.

And all the while, the building continued to burn.

**oOo**

The afternoon sun glared in through the windows, causing Adrien to blink against his sore, aching eyes. It seemed harsher inside somehow, the light bouncing off the tiles and silver adornments, and so he headed directly to the stairs, wanting to retreat to his bedroom.

He paused as he reached for the railing, however, attention falling to the cracked door of his father's study. At his father's "request," he'd gone to his room following his… conversation… with Marinette. But only because, when he'd come back in the house, Nathalie had alerted him to his father having just left. Something about only being back from the office due to Adrien's kidnapping by the akuma. And so, despite previously ripping with despair and shame—and wanting to blame anyone but himself—he'd been forced into isolation.

He was thankful for that now—that he hadn't burst in on his father and released all his frustration. It would have been in poor form, as well as misplaced. Though he blamed his father for many things, his dishonesty with Marinette was no one's fault but his own.

The thought literally pained him, his already wearied disposition making it seem all the worse. Closing his dried eyes painfully, he sank down into a crouch at the bottom step, before giving in and letting his body collapse fully. Sitting, he leaned against the banister and tried to fight back the emotions roiling inside him.

Plagg rested in his collar, exhausted after their exploits through the fire. He wasn't sure if Master Fu was alright or not, but he'd still been breathing when Chat had found him passed out in his back room. A call to the hospital would likely give him news, and so he decided he'd call as soon as he was upstairs. As it were, he was so tired, and so drained, that he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to his feet again any time soon.

Though he pushed back against it, images of Mari kept crossing the barriers of safe thought, until he was wishing for the adrenaline that had blinded him to the regret and guilt over what he'd done.

He could still see it, the shock and betrayal that had scored her expression, and the stinging way her words had pierced right through him.

" _I trusted you…_ "

Even thinking of the words, of how much hurt had laced every syllable, made him want to curl up away from his own agony. After all they'd done together, and how much time he'd put into being around her—getting her to trust him as more than just a combat partner. All of it, ruined, because he hadn't been honest when he should have been. He knew he should have told her—he'd known since it'd happened. But it'd been easier to push it off, to defend his actions—or lack of action—with his own selfish excuses. It shouldn't have mattered whether he'd been worried about disappointing her or not, she was right. He had put her at risk, and been completely thoughtless in doing so. Not only that, but he knew from experience that if she despised anything, it was lying.

She'd put her faith in him, he knew that. She didn't have to be as comfortable around him as she was—she didn't have to have confidence in him, to trust him with her life, to spend time with him outside of hero work, or even _welcome_ him into her _bed_. But she had, and he'd known that _meant something_ , and he'd betrayed that.

He should have been honest from the start—should have put his own self-consciousness on the backburner for her sake. How was it easier to jump in harm's way for her, but hadn't been to tell her the truth? Maybe she would have been disappointed in him, but it wouldn't have been this bad. He wouldn't have violated her trust or screwed up everything between them. What if she couldn't forgive him? He'd allowed their security to be breached—he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

But what if it was worse than that?

What if she never trusted him again?

The thought made his throat dryer than it already was, as though thick sandpaper was pulled up across his tongue, made only worse by the scorched remnants of smoke and soot. It hurt to swallow, hurt to think. His head felt clogged and bloated, and he wanted, more than anything, to be back in Mari's bed, curled up around her on that little mattress.

But he couldn't. She didn't want to be anywhere near him—have anything to do with him. Instead, he was left to the cold openness of his own home, the harsh sunlight doing nothing to alleviate the chill.

It all felt so heavy, and his dry eyes searched for the prickling moisture trying to squeeze through, the sensation like trying to draw tiny grains of sand across his vision.

So he let his lashes fall, ignoring anything that leaked out as he slumped against the banister.

After a little while, a sense of weightlessness overcame him—almost as though he were flying. Before the familiar softness of his sheets slipped into the crevices of his dreaming thoughts, and the feeling of something warm lifting his hand, holding it, startled him awake.

Despite their heavy thickness, his eyes fluttered open, gaze darting to the right. To his father, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, Adrien's hand held in his own as he stared pointedly at the silver ring on his finger.

As though he'd been burned, Adrien snapped his hand back, sitting up and leaning away as he cupped his ring protectively in his lap.

His father didn't seem the least bit perturbed by his actions. Remaining on the edge of the mattress, he drew his focus up to intercept Adrien's stare, lips pursing as he did.

Which resulted in Adrien looking away, swallowing hard as he did.

Gabriel sighed. "You fell asleep on the stairs," he said plainly. "So I brought you up here. I… assumed it would be more comfortable, but—as you've been spending most of your nights recently elsewhere—I could be mistaken."

Adrien supposed it'd been too much to expect that his absence not be noticed.

"Thank you," was what he settled for saying. For a moment, the silence stretched, Adrien supposing that, if he waited long enough, his father would probably get up and leave. But then, as she always did, Mari flitted through his head. And how repulsed she'd been by his behavior. If there was any incentive he needed to do something, that was it.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said abruptly, not sparing his father a glance as he did—even as those cold blue eyes focused on him. "About Marinette."

He didn't have to look directly at him to see the disapproval that had masked his father's face.

"I know you know who she is," Adrien went on bravely, fingering his ring as he did. "I'll say this plainly: You do anything, say anything to anyone, to put her in danger—to put her at risk of anything—and I'll _never_ forgive you."

"Adrien…"

"I mean it." He did look at his father directly then, unwavering in his stare. "I'll do anything to protect her, even from you if I have to." His voice had taken on a rather threatening tone, which he didn't rein back. "Don't put me in that position. You won't like the result."

It was Gabriel's turn to look away, a soft breath leaving his nostrils before he reached up to grip the bridge of his nose. "You're putting _me_ … in a very difficult position," he muttered out.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Adrien said quite insincerely, turning his attention to the large windows across the room.

"Adrien…" His father actually groaned, leaning his elbows on his knees as he covered his face with his hands. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what?" Adrien asked sharply, whipping back around on him. "Living my own life? Helping people? Doing the right thing?"

"'The right thing,'" his father repeated, voice clearly mocking as he leaned up again. "You are so similar…"

"Similar to who?" Adrien snapped. "Mom? I don't consider that a bad thing." He'd heard his father say such things before, though generally not directly. About how alike he was to his mother, both in humor and appearance. Adrien felt bad sometimes—fearing that he reminded his father of what he'd lost—but couldn't conjure the sentiment in that moment.

"Yes," Gabriel agreed stiffly. "You are very much like your mother—in temperament and attitude. But you also remind me of someone else."

Adrien only asked "who" because he knew he could be belligerent about it.

"Someone who's own foolishness," his father's tone was harsh, their gazes locking again, "got them killed."

It was a warning, one that Adrien didn't appreciate. He didn't know who this person was and, honestly, he didn't care. He was more insulted by his father's implication than anything else. Mari had scolded him previously for putting himself in danger, but somehow it was more offensive coming from his father.

"I only do what I have to," he replied darkly. "I'm sorry if you see that as foolish, but I'd rather save someone else's life at the risk of my own than stay cooped up in here. I don't see serving the greater good as a bad thing."

"Then you are selfish," Gabriel said sharply, causing Adrien's nose to curl. "How many lives do you save that are of no relevance to you, putting yourself at risk for those who care nothing about your own safety? What about the people that do? How are they to cope when you take a wrong step? How would they go on without you?

"You think you're being a hero, but would you not give anything to have your mother back? Do you not see the predicament you put me in? I care nothing for those people you save. How am _I_ to go on if something happens to you?"

He paused for only a moment. "How would Marinette Dupain-Cheng fair… if something happened to you?"

Adrien glared. "Don't bring her into this. We know the risks we take when we take them—we know what we're doing. And I'm sorry if you think that me doing good things for other people—things that maybe nobody else can do—is 'selfish,' but I don't see it that way. Better… better for you to live without me, than for dozens of people to be in danger when they didn't have to be."

"Such ignorance!" Gabriel snapped. "How can you say that after knowing the pain of losing your mother?"

"Mom would have approved of what I'm doing," he rebuked.

"I think you'll find that her opinion would have been quite different."

"I don't think so."

"You know so little…" Gabriel muttered, head shaking. "So little of the pain you have the potential to put others through with your own reckless actions."

"If something happens, we'll just have to deal with it."

"The words of an ignorant child."

"No, the words of someone brave enough not to let fear of the past dictate their actions!"

"Fear of the past is what keeps us alive," Gabriel replied, tone hushed—and more threatening for it. "A little bit of fear would suit you, for you do not know loss as I do. Even with your mother… You do not know what you do."

"I won't let _fear_ control my life," Adrien murmured. "And I won't let _your_ fear control me either." A statement which caused Gabriel's head to twitch almost violently away from him. "I'm sorry if what I do… worries you. But I believe in it. And I won't stop. I saved a man's life today, Father. That _means_ something."

He could see the way his father's jaw clenched, as though he were grinding his teeth together. And he could see how his neck muscles strained, and his hands gripped painfully against his red slacks. Adrien did feel for him. He wasn't so ignorant as to think what he and Ladybug did wasn't dangerous. But that wasn't something he could allow to sway his actions—it went against everything he was, every fiber of his being.

If he could help someone, or stop a maniac from hurting others, he'd do it.

He was more than willing to take on that responsibility—even if it did cause his father so much grief.

"I'm sorry for… for something else too," Adrien found himself saying, hoping the previous subject would drop. "About what- what I said before. About what happened… what happened to Mom being your fault." The words that had been shredding him with guilt for weeks. "I didn't… I didn't mean it.

"I know you want her back just as much as I do. I didn't… I don't mean to hurt you." Even if, at that point, his lifestyle couldn't help doing otherwise.

Gabriel didn't immediately respond. Rather, taking a deep breath, he turned his full attention back on his son, Adrien staring down at the creases in his sheets with the proper amount of shame to go along with his apology.

There was a long, stretching moment of silence before Gabriel's shoulders dropped just a bit. In defeat or acceptance, Adrien had no idea. Perhaps neither.

"You should clean up," he eventually said, reaching out as he did. He rubbed his thumb gently down Adrien's cheek, the motion procuring the expected degree of childish shying from his son, whose lips pooched at the attention. "You're covered in soot."

Self-consciously, Adrien reached up to rub harshly in the same area, not surprised when part of his palm came back tinged with gray.

"And get some rest as well," Gabriel finalized. "You've been through a lot for one day."

Adrien didn't object—mostly because he _was_ exhausted—and instead nodded. Though they'd come to little common ground on anything, he felt a little better. More as though they'd agreed to disagree, instead of being at odds with one another. He wasn't optimistic enough to think they wouldn't come to a head on the subject again, but, at least for one afternoon, he felt better about where they stood.

And some of the guilt was gone too, even if it was simply replaced by the same sensation in relation to Mari.

His father got up shortly after, rounding the bed and leaving the room with a quiet click of the door. Which left Adrien to lie back against his pillow, Plagg finally tumbling out of his collar. The kwami curled up beside his hair, Adrien reaching up and stroking his velvety head lightly as his own eyes began to grow heavy again.

He wanted to sleep, really. If he was sleeping, then he didn't have to worry about Mari. Or Master Fu. Or his father. Sleeping was easy, straightforward.

Something that even he couldn't screw up.

When he woke up again, it was dark outside, eyes squinting at the harsh brightness assaulting his vision from nearby.

"I said 'wake up!'" Plagg shouted at him, Adrien blinking as he realized it was his phone that was shining down on him out of the shadows. "Marinette is texting you!" Without warning, Plagg dropped the phone smack-dab in the middle of his face, causing Adrien to flinch away from the zinging pain burning across his nose. Groaning, he found himself to be fully awake as he sat up, eyes stretching wide as he looked blearily down at his phone.

The time read nine-thirty, so he'd been sleeping for quite some time. And Plagg hadn't been lying—he did indeed have a text from Mari. The sight of the notification caused him pause, his whole body going cold. He was almost afraid to read it—his thoughts jumping from one horrible conclusion to the next. But, no matter her opinions of him, he had to look at it. She was his partner in a world where only the two of them had any influence. He didn't have a choice in the matter.

Taking a shaky breath, he opened the text.

**Marinette – Hey. Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't text you earlier. I didn't have my phone and the fire department didn't let anyone go back in the complex until they were sure everything was stable. You didn't breathe in too much smoke or anything, did you?**

Not the text he'd been expecting. But, then again, he had no idea what he'd been expecting. And he wasn't giving Mari enough credit if he honestly thought she wouldn't have been worried. He'd seen her down there, watching him before he'd leapt in to rescue Master Fu. Things were broken between them, but she was still Mari—still Ladybug. Even for liars, she had compassion.

Up to a point, anyway.

_Adrien – I'm fine. Just sleeping it off. There wasn't any damage done to the bakery, was there?_

He could practically feel it, the way the subject slipped in and out of their words—the elephant neither of them was addressing. The avoidance was clearly purposeful, at least to him.

**Marinette – No, it didn't get that far. But because of the damaged electric and everything, the whole complex has been evacuated. We don't know for how long. My parents are staying at a hotel tonight, and I'm staying at Alya's.**

_Adrien – Mari, I'm so sorry :(_

**Marinette – It's alright. Master Fu was the unlucky one. That whole corner of the complex is burned to the ground.**

_Adrien – I have to call the hospital. I didn't even check if he was okay._

**Marinette – He's okay :) My parents know him, I guess, so they called. He's staying in the hospital overnight, but there's no lasting damage. You saved his life, Adrien.**

_Adrien – Well, what are superheroes for, right? ;)_

_Adrien – I'm just glad he's okay._

**Marinette – Me too.**

There was a slight pause then, Adrien staring down at his phone as he considered what to say. He wanted to make things right between them, but he didn't know the words to do that. An apology didn't seem good enough, not for what he'd done. And yet he was desperate to do anything.

But before he could begin typing, her ellipses popped up.

**Marinette – I was going to go visit him in the hospital before I went to Alya's. I know it's late, but…**

**Marinette – I think it'd be better if we were both there.**

An invitation Adrien didn't know how to comprehend. The jolt in his chest—which might have been excitement were it not so nauseating—hoped it was her way of inviting him back "in." But he also knew that likely wasn't it. Master Fu was connected to Ladybug and Chat Noir. To their duty. It was only natural that they both go visit him, as that was how they'd always talked to him in the past.

He didn't allow his hopes to get up too high.

_Adrien – Sure. I'll meet you there._

**Marinette – Okay. See you soon.**

So formal. He hated it.

Setting his phone aside, he did as his father had advised and cleaned up, before changing his clothes and rearranging his hair. Thankfully, he'd gotten a good amount of sleep, so he didn't feel totally wiped—even if his skin seemed spongy from the fire.

Lastly, he called Plagg and transformed, before exiting out his usual window. The hospital wasn't far, at least not for him, and he was there within ten minutes, dropping down into an inconspicuous alley to detransform before making his way inside. The nurse at the front desk directed him to the fifth floor, room 518. And as he knocked, his heart jumped into his throat.

Mari was already there as he walked in, sitting on the far side of the bed. Master Fu was awake, Adrien interrupting whatever conversation they'd been having as he entered. All eyes were on him, Adrien only daring to glance at Mari for a second, before turning his attention to Master Fu.

"There he is." Master Fu's voice was scratchy, as if each word were a struggle. So Adrien crept closer so as not to cause him undo strain, sitting down in a chair near the head of the bed with a soft smile.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Adrien said honestly, thankful there was more than enough distraction from Mari. "I was afraid when I pulled you out that I was too late."

"No, no." Master Fu shook his head, before taking a shaky breath. "You did very well. Saved my life. I will never be able to repay you the debt."

"That's alright." Adrien chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm a superhero. Kind of what I do…"

"Hmm." Adrien wasn't sure if that was a sound of agreement or not, so he decided not to comment. "I am glad you both came to visit me," he started after a moment, seemingly pushing forward. "There is much we need to discuss."

Mari's eyebrows furrowed, Adrien barely taking note out of the corner of his eyes.

"What about?" she asked.

"The fire," he replied, before being overtaken by a rather violent coughing fit. Both Mari and Adrien tensed, but he waved them off, recovering after a few deep breaths. "Do not worry over me," he ordered. "We have much graver things to concern ourselves with."

Neither Mari nor Adrien could possibly understand.

"The fire today was no accident," he explained. "It was a direct attack. Hawkmoth started it himself."

"What?!" They both blurted the word at the same time, eyes wide. Because if there was any cause they'd expected, that hadn't been it.

"Earlier today, one of his akuma burst into my shop," he continued. "Looking for you. Not in relation to Chat Noir and Ladybug, but, rather, something to do with your civilian lives?"

"Chloe Bourgeois," Mari said flatly. "The akuma was after things for her, and as she adores Adrien and hates me, that would make sense." Especially if she'd seen them from her father's hotel, which they both already knew she'd done before.

"I see." Master Fu nodded. "The akuma came in looking for you. I had… no time to do anything before he struck me. I was concerned, when everything was righted, at such a creature being amongst my private possessions, and so I was considering defenses against this, but it was too late."

"Too late?" Adrien asked.

"It would appear that the akuma revealed to Hawkmoth that which I was tasked to protect—the secrets of the miraculouses. He came for them, to question me and retrieve what he wanted. I tried to fight him, but I am… too old. I was no match."

"What… what did he take?" Mari questioned quietly.

On the bed, Master Fu's posture sank ever more than it already was, his typically serene expression slowly beginning to trickle away. It was replaced by a sort of defeated shame, Adrien's lips parting in his own helplessness in understanding.

"Scrolls, books. Many old things," Master Fu said sadly. "And… the miraculouses I was supposed to be protecting."

"The… the miraculouses?" Adrien questioned.

"I am the guardian. It is my duty to protect the miraculouses and miraculous' lore. To collect and keep safe that which generations of my family has scoured the world to gather. It has always been this way—collect the miraculouses until they are gathered together as one, but keep the world in mind first. That is, guardians are meant to protect the miraculouses, but also give them up when the world is in need.

"This is what I did with the ladybug and black cat miraculouses." He looked pointedly between them. "The butterfly miraculous was activated, and so it was my duty as a guardian to choose from the miraculouses within my collection and find suitable hosts. Thus, you were both chosen. But… the ladybug and black cat miraculouses were not the only ones within my possession. I had my own, of course, but there were two more—the fox miraculous and the bee miraculous. Hawkmoth seized these, my own included." Sadly, Master Fu looked down at his bare wrist.

Which Adrien decided was finally the right time. "Um, actually…" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the familiar turtle bracelet. Mari gaped, Master Fu's own eyes widening. "It was still on your wrist when I got you out," he explained, setting the bracelet on the bed beside Master Fu. The jewel was dark green, glowing veins trickling across as Wayzz was contained within it. "I knew you'd have to be hospitalized and I… I thought it might be safer if I took it." Which he'd felt guilty about. Stealing was stealing, after all, but hospital staff seizing a miraculous hadn't seemed like a very good outcome either. "Sorry…" He cringed.

"Do not be sorry," Master Fu replied, smiling a bit as he reached out and retrieved the bracelet. He glanced up at Adrien a second later, eyes creasing in pleasure. "Clever boy."

Adrien chuckled, his cheeks pinking.

"I thought Hawkmoth had taken it." Despite how he held it, Wayzz remained within, Fu appearing almost fond as he set the piece of jewelry in his lap. "This means he has only taken two. I had hoped that, as my miraculous had been on my person instead of with the other two, he'd have taken no notice of it. I am very grateful."

"But…" Mari fiddled with her fingers in her lap. "What does it mean, that he took the other two? What use could he have for other miraculouses? Will they… will they give him the power he wants?"

"No." Master Fu shook his head. "The Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses possess greater powers than the others, especially together. He cannot combine the bee or fox miraculouses, nor use them simultaneously. I can only assume he has other plans for them."

His words implied further explanation, and so Mari and Adrien stayed quiet.

"The butterfly miraculous grants one the ability to create champions—such as the villains you have been battling since the start." He fingered his bracelet, yet still Wayzz did not appear. "One miraculous cannot destroy another, but they can be manipulated. Having other miraculouses at his disposal means that he will be able to seize more powerful champions. I can think of no other reason why he would take an interest in them. He will take the bee and fox miraculouses as his allies."

"Allies?" Mari asked. "But… wouldn't he have to get the help of other people to do that?"

"Hawkmoth's power lies in mental manipulation—in sensing the emotional weaknesses in others. It will not be difficult for him to recruit."

"Recruit…?" Adrien wasn't sure he was understanding. "Are- are you saying that we're not going to be dealing with only Hawkmoth anymore? That there are going to be _two more_ miraculous users fighting with him?" A daunting, terrifying thought. They had enough trouble with Hawkmoth—how could they take on two more as well?

"That is all I can reason from Hawkmoth's behavior." Appearing ashamed once again, Master Fu stared down at the bed sheets. "I have failed. In every way."

Adrien did catch Mari's eye then, neither of them self-conscious in light of this new development. Neither knew, exactly, what it meant, or what would come of it, but bad news was still bad news. Made even worse when comprehension was impossible.

"Three miraculous users…" Mari murmured, swallowing as she flicked her attention back to Master Fu. "Are we even strong enough to take on that many?"

Master Fu's delayed response wasn't encouraging. "I don't know," he eventually admitted, which sent cold chills down Adrien's spine. "I have never come across a recorded time where so many miraculouses were active at one time. Six. No, never has the number been so high…"

"Six?" Mari asked cautiously. Including their own two, plus the three…

"Yes." Master Fu nodded, placing his hand over his bracelet once more. This time, the dark color zeroed away, the spidery glow fading as Wayzz materialized before them, leaving the light green stone behind. Yet, despite being reunited with Master Fu, Wayzz was clearly unhappy. His whole form, though floating, slumped, and his big eyes were sad. No, not just sad. Truly heartbroken.

"Master…" he murmured quietly.

"Hmm," Master Fu hummed, holding out a hand for Wayzz to slowly lower himself into. "You knew this time would come."

Mari and Adrien shared another look, unsure what was going on and too afraid to interrupt.

"We have been together a very long time, Master," Wayzz murmured, head bowing miserably.

"Too long," Master Fu murmured. "Much, much too long for a guardian."

"It will break the inheritance," Wayzz said.

Master Fu huffed. "A fault that is mine. I was arrogant, Wayzz, and too determined for too long. You must now suffer the consequences of my mistake. I am deeply sorry, old friend, but I fear we no longer have any choice in the matter."

Despite his clearly distressed disposition, Wayzz nodded. And, his own chest aching, Adrien laid witness to the first ever tear a kwami shed before him. It was only one, and Master Fu wiped it away with his thumb, but it'd been apparent nonetheless.

Plagg and Tikki watched as well, remaining quiet from where they perched, taking in the scene with the same kind of inherent grief that both teenagers could feel, despite not quite understanding the source.

Pulling Wayzz closer, Master Fu touched their foreheads together, eyes closing. "Have faith," he murmured, the two remaining together for a few seconds, before—with a blur that seemed far too fast—Wayzz disappeared. The bracelet glowed once again, Master Fu blinking a few times more than would be typical, before he peered up again.

He took a deep breath, both Mari and Adrien pale in the silence. Adrien was abruptly hyperaware of Plagg on his shoulder, Mari's own hands cupping Tikki a little closer.

"I am too old," Master Fu started after a moment, "to fight this battle. You have three potential miraculouses against you now, and so you will need all the help you can get." He gripped the bracelet tighter. "I have failed in every way imaginable—in every way expected of me. I was mistaken, in my youth, to think that I could gather all the miraculouses myself. As a guardian, it was my duty to search out the miraculouses when I could, but it was also my duty to continue the line of guardians and protect what relics we had in our possession. I thought myself above the former, reality coming to me too late, and I have now failed at the latter. The line of guardians has never been broken, not in over two thousand years. But now… it must be."

Taking a deep breath, he hesitated for just a moment, before holding the bracelet out to them. "You must take it. You must choose one who is worthy—who will help you in your struggle."

Eyes wide, Adrien stared at the bracelet, but didn't dare take it again. "Wh-what?" he stuttered out. "How- We can't… choose someone…"

"Y-yeah," Mari agreed. "You should-"

"No." Master Fu shook his head firmly. "You two were the right choices, I know that, but I do not have the right to choose those who would aid you. As Ladybug and Chat Noir, you are the most powerful. You must be leaders—be the ones to choose your own companions. This is not a choice I can make.

"Take this bracelet. Choose wisely. Wayzz… will make a very loyal companion."

Adrien shook his head. "How can we know who… who to choose? Wouldn't you know better?"

Master Fu's expression softened. "I could not. As the guardian, I was able to choose the both of you, but I do not have the insight into those who would benefit you beyond each other. Those are choices you must make yourselves. You must pick one who you can trust—with your lives and your secrets. Only you know who is best."

Sharing another look, Adrien and Mari both turned their wary gazes to the bracelet. But Adrien couldn't bring himself to take it. How could he? If they were really to make someone else a superhero, to pick someone they could trust, how could he possibly claim the responsibility?

He'd broken Ladybug's trust. He'd lied.

No, he wasn't fit.

And so he was thankful—when it was clear he had no intention of taking the bracelet—that Mari eventually reached out and carefully retrieved it from Master Fu's outstretched hand. She stared at it critically for some moments, brows furrowed, before she carefully slipped it into her purse.

"Good." Master Fu nodded in approval, leaning back against his pillow as he did. "I know you will choose wisely. I have great faith in both of you." He appeared suddenly tired, older, and his small body seemed to sink into the sheets—almost as though the covers would swallow him whole.

For a moment, none of them said anything, Adrien hunching a bit in his seat as he stared at his lap. It was Mari who eventually found something to say, audibly gulping before she did.

"Is there… is there anything you can tell us about these other miraculouses?" she asked tentatively.

Master Fu had closed his eyes, but answered nonetheless. "I know very little of the abilities of the fox and bee miraculouses," he admitted. "The last time the fox was active was during World War II. As you have already learned, it was the Volpine. I know the fox's abilities lie in illusion, but I am quite ignorant beyond the bare details—I was never in combat with the Volpine. The bee was last active from the sixties through the nineties, and was gifted to me upon the retirement of its user. It, too, I know very little about.

"I am sorry. Though I was a guardian, the collected knowledge of the miraculouses has been very limited."

"It's fine," Mari replied quietly, pushing on—if only because there was no alternative. "If- if it doesn't bother you to discuss, can you tell us anything of Hawkmoth? That is, from when you encountered him earlier today?"

"He was a tall man," Master Fu replied, eyebrows furrowing above continually closed eyes. "Masked and transformed. He spoke very little. Asked only for the miraculouses, which I refused, and so he attacked me directly—before I could call on Wayzz. I was beginning to awaken as he searched, saw that he'd collected the miraculouses and other relics. But… he was no fool. He did not leave me unattended. I do not remember much, so I can only assume he knocked me out once more, when it was apparent I would inevitably awaken.

"The next thing I knew, I was here." His eyes cracked open a bit, a frown creasing his lips. "I am sorry I cannot provide you with anything more helpful…"

"No, it's fine," Adrien assured, reaching out and laying his hand lightly on the bed sheets. "You've done enough." He wanted to say something along the lines of how much he'd been through, but feared that would come off as patronizing. "You should rest," he finally settled for, glancing once at Mari to check that she had nothing else to ask and taking her slight nod as answer enough. "It's late. We should go." Give him time to recover and all that.

"Of course," Master Fu replied, eyes closing again.

"You'll be okay, right?" Mari dared to ask. "I mean, you don't think that Hawkmoth… that he'd come after you again, do you?"

"If Hawkmoth had intended to kill me with any certainty, he'd have done so," Master Fu reasoned. Certainly a fire was likely to have disposed of him, but it wasn't foolproof. So his implication was that Hawkmoth wouldn't come back for him? Adrien wasn't so sure, but, perhaps, if Hawkmoth had gotten what he wanted… "Go home. I am quite alright here. And you've both had a long day."

His tone left no room for argument, the two teenagers heading out after quiet farewells.

Though it was late, the hospital corridors were still filled with staff. There was a sort of expected quietness to it all, everyone shuffling along in silence as Adrien and Mari made their way to the elevator. They stood side-by-side, but still blatantly apart, Adrien struggling with what he should say or do, while Mari gripped her purse with white knuckles.

He hadn't come up with anything as they reached the ground level, this time trailing a bit behind while Mari pulled ahead. Feeling more and more of his shame returning with each step, he watched her. The way her pigtails brushed her shoulders, longer than they had been when they'd first met. She was so slight, and yet so steady in her posture. As if, even in times of the greatest uncertainty, there was a sort of sureness about her that was always there.

Maybe it was her strength, or her power of will. He didn't know. Whatever it was, he loved it about her—loved all of her. And so felt even more acutely how he'd messed everything up.

She'd trusted him never to do what he'd done. How did he make that right?

He didn't know what to do…

The night was still warm as they left out the sliding doors and strolled onto the concrete landing beyond. They were alone as they went, whatever moonlight there could have been shielded by heavy cloud cover. There was a slight glow from the hospital, but the longer they walked, the dimmer it became, Adrien watching with a heavy kind of ghost pain as the distance between them stretched.

Hands in his pockets, he pursed his lips and stared down at his feet, wondering if, perhaps, it was wiser to just transform and leave. If that was what she wanted.

When the sound of her steps came to a sudden halt, he froze as well, keeping the distance between them as he retreated into his hunching shoulders—as he cowered away from her.

Which made his whole position that much more shameful.

"I…" Her voice, though soft, hit him severely enough that he flinched. "I should go to Alya's… Her mom's expecting me."

Swallowing, he nodded, continuing to stare down at his shoes.

More silence. Too many seconds of it—each one seeming worse than the last.

He took a deep breath, unable to mask how it shook inside him.

"Adrien…"

Unable to look at her, but also unable to flee, his head twitched to the side. An unconscious attempt to block whatever blow he feared was coming. His breathing became more ragged, insides beginning to twist with nausea.

She was walking back to him, probably in her compassionate attempts to lessen whatever hit she was about to bestow. Which only made Adrien's chest tighten with tense anxiety.

He almost wanted to be sick.

"Adrien." He didn't see it coming, the way she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. And so his twitching response was uncontrollable. He didn't shy, exactly, but he shifted all his weight to the opposite side, knowing he was cornered. Like a reprimanded animal that knew punishment was inevitable.

Her voice was soft. "Look at me, please."

But he couldn't. Rather, her request made his whole constitution worse. His lashes fluttered rapidly, giving away his distress as his lip trembled—despite how he tried to control it. His whole body felt tense, muscles jumping inside his skin. Stress. Anxiety. Guilt. He couldn't push it away. He couldn't control it.

Why had he been so stupid? Why had he lied?

Why had he _failed_ her?

"Adrien, I'm… I'm so sorry," she murmured, her hold on his arm tightening. That she even apologized, despite having done nothing wrong, nearly choked him, breathing becoming difficult as he turned to glance up at the clouds. To look anywhere but her.

He couldn't face her.

He was _so ashamed_.

"Please look at me," she repeated. "I didn't mean what I said. I was upset. I didn't mean it. Oh, Adrien."

He was trying to hold it together, but the more she spoke, the harder it became. Until his lips were pulling into an ugly cringe, his whole chest shaking as he hunched further in on himself.

"It's okay. It's was a mistake," she went on, her hands slipping up to his shoulders. "I'm not angry anymore. I promise. It's _okay_."

It wasn't okay. He knew it wasn't okay. Everything in his body was telling him it _wasn't okay_. And he didn't know how to make it okay. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, or what was the right thing to say. And so the words heaved out of him, painful and desperate and pulling every emotion he'd been trying to keep contained with them.

" _I'm so sorry, Mari_ ," he sobbed, the words breaking as his whole body shook around him. As he closed his eyes as tight as he could against the tears that leaked down his cheeks. " _I'm s-so sorry._ "

"I know," she murmured, her hands coming up to gently caress his cheeks, before she pulled them back and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's okay." She tugged him closer, forcing him to stoop toward her as she set her chin up on his shoulder. A hug she wasn't letting him escape, no matter how stiff he was.

Not that there was much fight in him. Not with her so close, and so firmly holding him despite how his bones clattered inside him. And, really, he wanted to give in. He felt dirty and unworthy, but she was _there_ , and she wasn't pushing him away despite how he deserved it.

She wasn't leaving, even though he knew she'd be justified in doing so.

Sniffing, and with his eyes still closed despite the continued dampness around his lashes, he finally reached back. His hands clawed at her, circling her as securely as he could. Until her whole body was plastered up against his, nose burrowing into her hair as he tried to hide.

Hide _from_ her, even though she was the one daring to still look his way.

"Shhh," she hushed, having to stand on the tips of her toes to wrap more fully around him. "It's okay, Kitty," she whispered. "Everything's alright."

It wasn't. It couldn't be. But she was _there_. And he couldn't let her go.

He didn't know how long they stood there, wrapped up as he sniffed pitifully into her neck. Which only made him more ashamed, and so more apt to simply stay as he was, curled around her and sheltered from having to face the truth of anything. As though, if time could stand still, nothing that had happened before and nothing that was to happen after existed at all.

They could simply be, the complexities of everything else securely outside the safe bubble he had in her.

Yet, he knew it couldn't last. That wasn't reality. He'd made a decision, and so he'd have to face the consequences.

There was no getting around it. There never was.

When she gently began to pull away, he almost didn't let her. But the continued bombardment of guilt and shame left him weak. If she wanted to step back, he had no right to stop her.

Hands trailing down his arms, she still held him, Adrien thankful that he could still grip her waist—that she wasn't pulling back completely.

He could feel her eyes on him, silently asking for him to connect his own gaze with hers. And so, if only because _she_ was the one that was asking, he finally found the courage to look at her.

Which was too much of course, a fresh wave of tears assaulting him as he did.

She sighed lightly, one hand coming up as she gently wiped at the wetness across his cheek.

"I shouldn't have left," she murmured after a moment, hand moving to caress his cheek. "I'm sorry I said the things that I did, and that I ran away."

He gulped, trying to gather himself. "You had every right…"

"No, I didn't." Her smile was bittersweet. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"That doesn't matter," he said shortly, sniffing again. "I did put you in danger. And I did… lie. I didn't- I was-" He shook his head. "There's no excuse."

A claim to which she offered no immediate response. Instead, her own gaze dropping, her hand fell from his cheek. And he thought that, perhaps, she'd finally push him away. But, instead, she tucked her arms up under his own, dragging them along his back as she stepped forward. As she burrowed her nose in his chest, hold tightening as she did.

For a second, Adrien did nothing. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to fall apart. But she hadn't turned away. She kept coming back to him—a blessing he knew he had to take. If only out of pure selfishness.

Once more, he wrapped his arms around her, laying his cheek on the top of her head.

She nuzzled against him, his heart daring to beat faster, sending a dizzying throb through his whole body.

Her lips moved against his shirt. "I forgive you," she whispered.

Closing his eyes, he pursed his lips and fought every sensation and thought that dared tell him it was a lie—that he hadn't heard her say it and that the whole thing wasn't real. He wanted desperately to believe her, despite how everything inside him told him not to.

But she _had_ said it and no amount of denying as much undid the words.

He wasn't sure whether to object to being worthy or collapse in relief.

No matter the case, she seemed to notice the way some of his tension seeped away, or at least how his form slumped. Leaning back again, she moved her hands back to his arms, before gesturing them both to the bench nearby. Tugging him down into sitting beside her, she angled herself toward him, their knees knocking as their hold on one another slipped away. And yet, before they separated completely, she took his hand in her own, resting them together atop his thigh.

Her fingers were warm, and so he greedily gripped them within his own.

She watched him, expression open and honest, and though it took some moments, Adrien soon found he was able to breathe easier. Which released some of the clamps that had been holding him down, allowing words to finally make sense as he spoke.

"I talked to my father," he admitted quietly. "About earlier. I know it- it probably doesn't mean much, but I don't think he'll do anything. I made sure that he wouldn't. If- if you believe that."

"Of course I believe you," she murmured. "Adrien, I… What happened today was serious, but I reacted poorly. We both make mistakes and I know you didn't mean for this to happen. It's not a matter of trust. If you say that we're safe, then I believe you." She laughed just a little. "If there's anyone I know I can trust to do anything to keep me safe, I know it's you. Even if I do sometimes disagree with your methods."

One corner of his lips pulled up slightly. "I used the right methods this time, I think. Things between my father and I are always difficult, and I wasn't… nice… about explaining our position. But we know where we stand now, I think. I did… I did threaten him."

Mari's eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"I told him I'd never forgive him if he did anything to endanger you, and that I'd do _anything_ to prevent that. I don't- I don't think that's blackmail. I was just… being honest."

"I know," she replied, her grip on his hand tightening for just a moment. "Thank you for telling me. I know your relationship with your father is difficult, and that… talking to him must have been hard. I appreciate you doing that, really. And, like I said, if you say that your father will keep our secret, then I believe you. I trust you."

His uncertainty was obvious as he looked at her. "Do you really?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Adrien," she said with no trace of hesitation. "Completely. We all make mistakes and it wouldn't be fair to hold them over each other. I believed that Chat Noir would never lie to me, and I believe that now too."

"I'll never lie to you again," he said quickly, reaching out with his other hand to lay it over the one he was already holding. "I was an idiot. And I wasn't thinking. But I promise, it'll never happen again." Not about anything serious anyway—not when it _mattered_.

"Okay," she said simply, smiling once again—a smile that was so sincere, and so _Mari_ , that he believed her too. Even if he felt he didn't deserve that kind of faith.

"Then… then we're okay?" he asked meekly.

She nodded. "We're _perfect_."

"I don't know about that," he muttered, looking off to the side. "I mean, _I'm_ perfect, but…"

She was not amused, the way her expression dropped causing him to grin just a bit—despite the tightness of dried tears lacing his face. And when she rolled her eyes, he finally let himself settle back fully. Comfortable, and _safe_.

She huffed. "Joke all you want, we're going to need to be _more_ than perfect if what Master Fu said is true." Despite the subject change—which was no less serious than the one previous—she still allowed him to hold her hand. "I'm… I'm really worried…" Her gaze fell to the ground, Adrien doing his best to move beyond his exhausted emotions onto the matter at hand.

"This is bad, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"It's very bad," Plagg interjected, floating up beside them. Tikki had crawled out of Mari's purse and onto her lap, looking extremely concerned. "It's one thing for multiple miraculouses to be active on the side of good, let alone three at Hawmoth's disposal."

"You two will have to choose very carefully," Tikki added. "For Wayzz. And you should choose soon. Who knows what Hawkmoth will do next." There were new variables on the table, which meant there was no way to predict what was coming. They were fighting blind, with no leads and no help.

"There's- there's nothing you two can tell us about these other miraculouses, is there?" Mari asked, looking between Tikki and Plagg.

Tikki appeared somewhat uncomfortable, before ultimately giving one of her typical cryptic answers. "It's not the abilities these miraculouses possess that you should be afraid of, but how they're used and the people using them."

"Still, Fu was right," Plagg added. "The fox miraculous is about illusion, but there's more to it than that." The two kwami shared a look, as if making a decision between one another, before Plagg went on, for once trying to be helpful. "There's a difference between us and the other miraculouses. We have active abilities—powers you choose to use and that have a direct consequence. The other miraculouses are more… passive."

"Hawkmoth has the ability to create champions by sensing the emotional status in others," Tikki took over. "It's an unwavering ability, and one that he can use continually. Though Nooroo no doubt grows weary after a while, he does not have a time limit as you two do after your abilities are used."

"Our powers are stronger," Plagg continued. "Much stronger, when at their full capacity and when utilized correctly. But more limited… if only because of our… situation."

"Situation?" Adrien asked.

"It is as Master Fu said before," Tikki replied quietly. "Plagg and I are two halves of the same whole. This… separation… makes us weaker than we would have been otherwise. But there is nothing we can do to change it ourselves. Which is why it's so pertinent that you two work and grow together. The more you do, the stronger we become."

"Then… then other miraculous users, they don't have something similar?"

"No." Tikki shook her bulbous head. "They are complete in and of themselves. They must learn to use their powers, but they do not require any partnerships."

"It might seem like a hassle now," Plagg interjected, crossing his little arms over his chest, "but we _are_ stronger than the other miraculouses, if only through proper growth."

"And if you two work together," Tikki smiled, "then we'll be stronger for it."

Adrien and Mari shared a look, their previous disagreement seeming that much heavier. There was more on their shoulders now, more riding on their actions. They couldn't afford to fight, not if they could help it.

"And what about this fox and bee?" Adrien asked. "Master Fu didn't know much, but you two do, right?"

"The fox has the power of illusion, and the ability to sense the fears of others," Plagg said simply. "The bee is more physical. They have a stunning power, and the ability to sense intention."

"Like, mind reading?" Adrien asked.

"No. More like they can sense things before you do them. The more obvious your plan, the more easily they can predict it. That sort of thing."

"And the turtle," Tikki took over, "is indestructible. Their power lies in defense. They're immune to the abilities of other miraculouses, and can sense auras and exterior energies."

"And that's the teammate we'll have," Mari said quietly, pulling the bracelet from her purse. Both she and Adrien stared at it critically, quiet for a few moments—before Mari flicked her attention to him. "Who should we give it to?"

A question he didn't know how to answer, and so he shook his head.

"It has to be someone you know you can trust," Tikki said. "Someone who is loyal, but also able to think for themselves. Someone who won't be afraid of confrontation."

"Someone who'd want to fight at your sides," Plagg tacked on.

Which was a tough position to fill. They each had different people they were close to, but none whom the both shared. And even of all those people, were any of them the type that could handle such a responsibility?

But, then again, perhaps it wasn't about who was apparently the best choice, but who would rise to the challenge. As they had.

Suddenly shifting her hand in Adrien's hold, Mari tugged his fingers open, before placing the bracelet rather forcefully into his open palm. "You choose," she said firmly.

"W-what? Why? No, I can't-"

"There's no one we both know and trust equally," she explained. "No matter our choice, that is the reality. Which means that we must pick someone from one of our own respective circles. I trust you, Adrien," she smiled, "and I'll trust anyone _you_ trust."

"Mari…"

"I mean it," she continued, gaze unwavering. "You pick."

He didn't know if she was trying to make a point or just being her typical self. No matter, he could tell by the look in her eyes that there was no changing her mind. She'd come to her decision, that stubbornness that sometimes got her into trouble also being one of the many qualities that made her strong. Fighting her would be pointless, even if he didn't feel worthy of the faith she had in him.

But, then again, maybe that was why she was doing this in the first place.

"What if I pick the wrong person?" he asked quietly, their hands finally slipping apart as he folded his fingers around the bracelet.

"You won't," she replied. "I know you won't."

"I believe you, you know," he muttered, referencing her supposed forgiveness. "You don't have to do this to prove anything."

"There's nothing to prove," she said, shrugging. "I'm being honest. One of us has to pick. Your judgment is no worse than mine. So, whoever you choose, I'll trust them. Just as you do."

She made it sound so simple.

"Do you think Hawkmoth has to do this too?" he asked after a moment. "Choose someone?"

Mari didn't reply. Rather, her lips pursed, the threat that was before them—however uncertain—looming larger by the second.

"I wonder who he'll pick, and why…?" Adrien muttered.

"We'll know soon enough," Plagg said darkly.

"Until then, we have to be prepared," Tikki added.

Adrien and Mari shared another look. They'd just have to be as ready as they could be, and hope—despite the fog before them—that it'd be enough.


	10. Part One - Serendipity

The building didn't exactly look like the most inviting place.

Honestly, its shabby exterior was almost enough to turn Chloe around right there. Chipping green paint, cracked windows, and she'd been told to come through the back—like some kind of common criminal. And if there was anything Chloe _wasn't_ , it was "common." Lips pursing, she put a hand on her cocked hip, pulling the paper letter up once again. She didn't read it, didn't even unfold it, and instead narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, the words flitting through her thoughts for the billionth time.

_If you truly want justice done to Ladybug, I can help you._

Those were the important words, along with the address. Chloe wasn't sure that she did want "justice" done to Ladybug, though. She was angry, mostly, at what Ladybug had said to her. How she'd been humiliated. But she wasn't sure something like revenge was what she wanted.

She didn't know _what_ she wanted. Except for Ladybug to take back her nasty words, but that wasn't going to happen. She'd waited for some kind of apology, as it was _deserved_ , but it'd never come. And then this letter had somehow found its way onto her desk.

Alas, she didn't have to make any decisions yet. Whatever this was, she could always say no. But there was no harm in at least seeing what it was all about. Even if knowing did require she go in the back of a creepy, abandoned building. Alone.

Okay, so maybe this was a very, _very_ bad idea.

And, really, she didn't want anything _done_ to Ladybug. Not if Ladybug would just come to her senses and _apologize_ , thus renewing their friendship.

That didn't seem like too much to ask…

"Scared to go in, are you?" Yelping, Chloe jumped away, hands raised defensively as she whipped around. Standing there, smirking, was none other than _Lila_. The sight of her, and her tacky spotted jumper, caused Chloe's guard to drop, as well as a scowl to etch itself across her lips. Shoulders dropping, she glared.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked snidely. Sure, Lila had only gone to their school for a total of one day, and Chloe had only seen her in passing, but she'd cast more than enough of an impression to gather an opinion. As was being made quite clear, Chloe didn't like her.

"Same as you, obviously," Lila replied, holding up a letter of her own. And like Chloe's, it was sealed with a golden butterfly—albeit a broken one at that point.

Gripping her own letter a little tighter, Chloe stood straighter. "I doubt that."

"Please, don't be coy," Lila said, looking anything but impressed. "There's only one reason we could have possibly been called here." Abruptly, Lila looked up at the shabby building, smiling as she did. "I've been waiting for this to happen. Hoping."

"Hoping?" Chloe asked, cocking an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

Lila side-eyed her. "You're joking, right?" A question to which Chloe offered no response. "You know who sent these, don't you?" Lila held up her letter again. "It was totally obvious to me. Ever since I was akumatized, I've been waiting. I knew I could help him."

"Help who?"

Lila scoffed. "Who? _Who_?" Her arms crossed harshly over her chest. "Who do you think? I don't know what your letter said, but mine was about getting revenge on Ladybug. She _humiliated_ me, and now I'm going to pay her back." She smiled. "With _Hawkmoth's_ help."

"Hawkmoth?" Chloe asked, her heart skipping a beat as she peered quickly up at the building. "Hawkmoth sent these?" She hadn't even considered that. But, now that she had, her blood ran cold.

She shouldn't have come here. Hawkmoth was dangerous. He was Ladybug's enemy and, because of him, Chloe had found herself in peril more often than she would have preferred.

But it was also because of him that Ladybug had saved her so many times.

Ladybug…

Who'd thrown their friendship away like it'd meant _nothing_.

"Yeah, of course," Lila replied, Chloe snapping her attention back to the other girl. "I knew he'd want my help again. But…" she looked Chloe pointedly up and down, "I don't know what he'd want with someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Chloe snapped back, despite the chill that had settled at the base of her spine.

"Yeah," Lila said confidently, cocking a skeptical brow. "You're clearly terrified."

Chloe glared.

"But it's not like I care," Lila decided, gesturing flippantly as she turned away. "I'm going to do whatever I can to help him, even if you're too scared." With that, she sauntered off, not a bit of hesitation to be found as she went toward the double doors at the back of the building. Chloe watched her the whole way, feet seemingly stuck in place.

Hawkmoth was bad, she knew. That was what Ladybug said, and the news, and all the rest of Paris. Everyone was afraid of him, herself included. Her father considered him a terrorist and someone that had to be stopped. And because of his nasty akumas, she'd almost been killed multiple times.

But then Ladybug had always shown up. Ladybug had saved her.

And also _rejected_ her.

Hand balling into a fist, Chloe stared down at the cracked concrete beneath her feet. She shouldn't go in. She should turn around and go home. Get rid of the letter and never think of it again. But Ladybug kept flashing through her head, and all the horrible things she'd said.

And Chloe was just… so _angry_. She'd been Ladybug's biggest fan; adored her. She'd have done _anything_ for Ladybug. Well, maybe not anything, but a lot. More than she'd have done for anyone else. But all that was destroyed now. Ladybug had ruined everything. And, unlike before, she hadn't apologized this time.

Chloe had waited. She'd sat outside on her balcony for two nights, hoping she'd come.

But there'd been _nothing_. Ladybug had betrayed her.

And, now, she could…

She could betray Ladybug. But that meant dealing with Hawkmoth.

Well… perhaps she'd just see what it was all about first. She could always leave. If she didn't like him, she'd forget the whole thing—find some other way to get back at Ladybug.

But she was there. And Lila had gone in…

Swallowing hard, heart beating fast, Chloe gathered her courage and stepped forward. If Lila could do it, then she certainly could. She wasn't about to be outdone, or made fun of. Besides, Ladybug dealt with Hawkmoth all the time. Which meant she could too.

Nodding to herself, she ignored the fear bubbling in her gut and set her focus forward. Lila had left the door to the old building cracked open, as if she hadn't had the consideration to close it behind her. Skirting closer, Chloe peered inside, another layer of wary fear flowing through her as she did. It was a long, deserted corridor, flickering florescent lights spaced only often enough to guide one through the darkness.

The hairs on the back of Chloe's neck stood on end. She should go. She should turn around and leave.

And yet her feet carried her on.

She closed the door behind her, feeling quite as though she was doing something wrong. That she was sneaking around behind someone's back. Maybe she was. Ladybug's back—Ladybug, who'd abandoned her. Who'd refuted everything between them.

She pushed onward.

Somewhat hunched within herself, and gripping her letter tightly in both hands, Chloe slowly crept down the hall. She couldn't see where it led and soon where she'd entered grew too dark with shadows to make out. A leaky pipe dripped somewhere she couldn't place, the only other sound being her own breathing.

Eventually, the hall came to a "T" intersection, Chloe wringing the letter as she looked first one way and then another. The right was dark, no light, and to the left was another door—this one rusty and seeming to accentuate the musty smell all around. It was cracked open as well, as though Lila had left her a trail.

A shudder ran through her, but Chloe persevered. She toed her way to the door, careful not to let the grimy surface touch her as she slipped through.

Here, natural light ignited the far side of the room. It was a big open area, like a warehouse, and giant, rectangular windows lined the far wall. They were dirty with age, which fogged and speckled the light, but it was enough. There, standing atop the flaking concrete floors, were two figures. They both had their backs to her, one being Lila, while the other stood further off.

He appeared to be wearing a purple suit, a cane in his hand. Chloe wasn't sure, but it looked like some kind of silver cap was pulled over the back of his head.

She hesitated for just a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing on.

It wasn't until she was standing beside Lila, who side-eyed her in annoyance, that she stopped. Lila's attitude hardly got to her, however. It couldn't, not with the thick layers of fear widening inside her, defending against anything else.

They stood in silence for a few moments, before the man's gloved hand shifted atop his cane, gripping tighter.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Bourgeois," he said after a moment, his deep, steady voice causing Chloe to jump. Lila merely smirked. "You need not fear me, however." Slowly, he turned, the vague light only making the sharp points of his suit that much more sinister. His whole head but his mouth and eyes was covered, and there was a slight smile pulling at his lips. "I won't hurt you."

Chloe knew better than to believe him.

"She's here," Lila started, as though she'd already spoken with him and wanted to move on as quickly as possible. "Can you explain things now?"

His smile grew a bit wider, revealing only a sliver of teeth as he looked Lila's way. The grin she gave him in return made Chloe's blood run cold.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," he replied steadily. "That will serve you well."

Lila's grin widened, her posture straightening.

"As you have probably both deduced by now," he started, moving his cane to stand before him, "I am Hawkmoth."

Chloe's bearing sank a bit more.

"I have asked you here because you're both… special." His head cocked slightly, even more teeth showing in his smile. "In fact, all three of us have something in common."

"Wanting vengeance on Ladybug!" Lila interjected, holding up a fist as she did.

"Something like that," Hawkmoth verified, chuckling lightly. "We all want Ladybug removed from the picture, in any case. You, Lila, desire to be a superhero, do you not?" She nodded. "And you, Chloe," he turned his attention to her fully. "You want Ladybug."

"I- I-" She didn't know what to say—she didn't know what she wanted. She just knew she couldn't forgive Ladybug for what she'd done.

"She hurt you," he went on. "You and she were friends—special friends. And she rejected you. I can't imagine how that must have felt." He clicked his tongue, Chloe's gaze falling to the floor. "She didn't deserve a friend like you—so loyal. But, you see, you put your faith in the wrong person."

Head snapping back up, Chloe listened intently. He was right, wasn't he? He understood. Even if he was…

"Ladybug is…" His focus drifted thoughtfully sideways. "She's selfish. Drunk on her power. She has no appreciation for her fans or the people she helps." Lila was nodding adamantly. "Being a superhero is a power trip for her. And, if you ask me, that's unacceptable."

"B- but…" Chloe's voice barely made it out of her. "You h-hurt people."

His expression softened. "Ladybug gives me no choice." Shifting, he paced only a few steps, looking to the windows. "Her miraculous, and Chat Noir's miraculous, they have the power to… to help me. I created akumas to draw those powers out, to locate them. But they fell into the wrong hands." He looked back at Chloe. "All I want is to… _help_ someone. Someone that I love. But Ladybug cares nothing for that.

"She cares nothing for what others want, no matter their good intentions. She wants to be a hero, but she is not… worthy… of that kind of power. But you," he faced them both fully again. "Both of you _are_.

"You know what she's really like. She's the villain, not I." He placed a hand on his chest. "She's done horrible wrong to you both. Someone like that, someone who hurts others for no reason, they do not deserve the powers of a miraculous, yes?"

"Of course," Lila replied quickly, Chloe ultimately nodding—mostly because she didn't know what else to do.

"That's all I want," he went on. "Her miraculous, as well as Chat Noir's. With them, I can do true good. But… she has thwarted me. Again and again. And so, I must ask for help."

"I'll help you," Lila volunteered. "I'll do whatever you want."

"I know you will." He cast her another smile. "We three are the same. All we want is true justice. And I can give you the power to make that possible. Ladybug is no hero. The both of you have what it takes to truly be what she is not. But, before that is possible, she must be knocked off her pedestal.

"Is that not the right thing to do?" he asked, looking to Chloe again. "After what she said to you, after all she's done. Does she not deserve to be put in her place?"

She did. Had Chloe not been telling herself that very thing since Ladybug had betrayed her? Who was Ladybug, anyway? Why did she have a miraculous in the first place? If Hawkmoth… If he was telling the truth, then would it not be better to get him what he wanted? Then he wouldn't have to make akumas. Then Paris would be peaceful again.

"She treated you unjustly," he said quietly. "You, Chloe Bourgeois. The mayor's daughter—the one who all of Paris adores. She had no right to speak to you as she did."

"But she…"

"She has been a friend to you, I know. But don't you see? She did not value that as you did—as she should have. You, who need no one, made an exception for her. And she tossed that away.

"But you're right, Chloe. You don't need anyone—especially not Ladybug. I can give you the power she has. You can be your _own_ hero.

"All I ask in return is that you stop her before she hurts anyone else. Bring me her miraculous, as well as her partner's, and she'll be back where she belongs. While you two," he smiled fully, "will be the true heroes Paris deserves."

A hero… Like Ladybug. No, better than Ladybug. Chloe didn't need her—he was right. She could save herself, be her own only companion. She was the _only_ one worthy of that. And she was more than good enough to be a better hero than Ladybug. Hawkmoth didn't want to do bad things—he was only doing what he had to because he needed to help someone. What better reason was there?

"Can you really make us heroes?" Lila asked. " _Real_ heroes?"

"I can," he confirmed. "You see, I possess more power than you realize. And I've been waiting for the right two, the only ones deserving, to prove their worth." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled something out. A golden chain with a pendant—a foxtail pendant.

Lila gasped, before a truly ecstatic grin parted her lips. "Is that- is that the _real_ fox miraculous?"

"Of course," he said simply. "I would offer you nothing less."

"Please, I'll do it," Lila said quickly. "I'll get Ladybug. I'll get you the miraculouses. I'll do anything."

Hawkmoth nodded once. "I know you will." Coming forward—so close that Chloe took a step back—he stood directly before Lila. He was so tall, and so sure of himself. And like an eager puppy, Lila looked up at him, holding out her hands as he let the pendant dangle before her.

"You must wear this always," he murmured, still holding it. "I have put a spell on it, one that will connect us so we might be able to communicate. It will also make you more powerful—powerful enough to stop Ladybug. But only if you wear it at all times. The more you do, the stronger the bond will become. Until our power is completely unmatched."

"I'll never take it off," she agreed.

"Good." After only a slight pause, he slowly lowered the pendant into her open hands, Lila looking like she might burst from the thrill as the chain gathered over her fingers.

As Hawkmoth eventually released it completely.

The two shared in another smile, Lila cupping the necklace possessively and pulling it to her chest. It was then that Hawkmoth turned to Chloe—who returned his gaze despite the nervous gulp she couldn't control.

"I have a miraculous I can give you as well," he explained, his cane clicking lightly as he came toward her. This time, Chloe didn't dare step away. She remained hunched in place, until his shadows overcame her.

"There is no need to fear me," he murmured, reaching a gloved hand toward her. Gently, he cupped her cheek, his touch sending a chill through her whole body, while seeming to burn her skin in the same moment. "Above all, you have aided me most. Not everyone is worthy of you, or of miraculous powers. You know this." His fingers lightly caressed her hair. "Help me, Chloe. Be the hero Paris needs. And stop the ones that will only do it more harm.

"I know you can. I have complete faith in you."

No one had ever believed in her before—not with something like this. She could do it, couldn't she? Yes. She was Chloe Bourgeois—she could do anything. Ladybug didn't deserve to be a hero. She had to be stopped.

 _Chloe_ could stop her.

"O-okay," she agreed, nodding against his hand. "I'll- I'll do it. I'll stop her."

He smiled. "It is a heavy burden, but I knew I could depend on you." As though leaving scorching marks in his wake, he removed his hand from her person, once more reaching inside his jacket.

What he pulled out was a beautiful, golden comb, unmarred in any way and sparkling with black and white bee accents. With it flat in his hand, he held it out to her, Chloe's focus flicking between his eyes and the comb, before she hesitantly reached out.

Her fingers faltered just before she touched it, a chill running almost violently through her. But she ignored it, forcing herself. She laid her hand on the comb, glancing one last time up at Hawkmoth before she took it.

It was heavier than she'd expected, and cold. Yet, despite its stillness, she could _feel_ something there. Something vibrating inside it, like it wanted to get out. Power, she decided. That was what it had to be. The power to be a superhero.

The power to _stop_ Ladybug.

"You must never remove this," he repeated, gently weaving a loose strand of her hair between his fingers. "Promise me. Else, I fear, we will not be strong enough to stop Ladybug."

"I won't," she agreed, cupping the comb protectively. "I'll always wear it."

"I'm glad." He nodded once, before taking a slow step back. Turning, he walked back toward the windows, coming to a halt once he stood fully in the sunlight.

"You know what you must do," he eventually said. "Keep in mind, always, what she has done to you. You cannot allow her to hurt others in the same manner. And I will be there to support you, though you cannot return here. You will not find me. Which is why you must always wear your miraculouses—it will be a vital line of communication between us.

"I am depending on you. As of late, I find myself… preoccupied with other matters. That is why you are both so crucial to my cause.

"Be the heroes you deserve to be," he looked over his shoulder at them, "and bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculouses.'"

**oOo**

Generally, Saturdays were the types of days he didn't complain about. They were prime weekend time and lacked the downing expectation of Sunday. But even some Saturdays generally sucked. Nino was considering this one of those rare and usually unheard of exceptions. Not only had it rained all morning, but his best bro had been in a photoshoot all day. Which meant there'd been no one around to listen to his beats (because not just _anyone_ could listen to his state-of-the-art work).

He'd tried to see if any of their other classmates had wanted to hang out, but that'd been a no go. And then, to top it off, he'd ended up bickering with Alya when he'd come across her and Marinette getting ice cream.

So, overall, the trudge home from his time alone at the arcade was made worse by everything before it. Mostly, he just wanted to go home, collapse in bed, and wish the day over.

Reaching his house, he climbed the old, concrete stairs to the small complex, pushing his way through the creaky front door and into the dimly lit entranceway. He could hear the television going in the other room and his grandmother's raspy voice trying to talk over it. Before his father's laughter overcame all the noise, followed by his mother's meek giggle—which always trailed his father's humor no matter what he was laughing at.

Slipping off his shoes, Nino didn't bother with a "hello." Instead, he walked right past the doorway that led into the living room and up the stairs. The flattened, worn carpet was stiff under his feet and his doorknob jiggled as he pushed into the room at the far end of the hall.

Still downed from the day, he closed it quietly before looking up.

He was pretty sure he almost pissed himself.

"Ah!" Yelling, he backed flat up against the door. "Wh- How- Why are you here?!" Eyes wide, he looked the intruder up and down, only vaguely noting that those green eyes looked just as surprised to see him. "Why is Chat Noir in my bedroom?! What's going on?!"

"Oh, uh…" Chat Noir cringed, before reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I… was not expecting you to walk in. Honest. I was just gonna be in and out, you know, real quick." He gestured to the window with a single claw.

"That… That doesn't answer my question?!"

"Yeah, ah, look." He laid his hands out level, as if to calm Nino down somehow. "There's nothing happening, I swear. I just… I'm just delivering something. So, don't worry. You're totally safe." He gave him two thumbs up. "Yeah… I'm just gonna go now."

"Go?!"

"Yeah, you know, just," he skirted back toward the open window, "get on out of here. Good seeing you though," he added as he stuck his leg out over the sill. "Glad we had this chat. And I'll, uh, see you around." He ducked out of the window completely.

"H-hey, wait!" Bolting forward, Nino dashed to the window, sticking his own head out. "What were you delivering?! What's going on?!"

But Chat Noir was gone.

Standing at the window for a second longer, Nino frowned, his gut still twisting from the shock of finding a superhero in his bedroom. But, ultimately, he did pull his head back in. Before slamming the window closed and making absolutely positive it was locked.

Still perplexed, he turned away. Which was when he saw it.

The tiny, white, cardboard box that had definitely not been sitting on his scratched up, sticker-covered desk when he'd left earlier that afternoon.

Frown growing deeper, he stared at it with mounting suspicion, quite positive that anything Chat Noir brought to his house was likely to be dangerous. And yet, it did nothing. So he was alone in his room, staring at a box on a crappy Saturday night. A box delivered by Chat Noir.

This whole day was just one gigantic clusterfuck, and getting worse.

Looking quickly around the room for no logical reason, he then began to edge his way toward the box, cringing when he was finally in front of it.

For a few moments, he did nothing, before rolling his eyes and reaching out to grab it.

The flap was taped shut, so he ripped that off before holding it back away from him and lifting the tab.

Despite how he shied, nothing happened. And so, staring down his nose at it, he tried to get a good look, before eventually deciding that would do no good.

Giving in, he held one hand out before tipping the box.

He did not expect a bracelet to fall out. And he _definitely_ didn't expect the thing to explode the moment it landed in his palm (though when considering who'd delivered it, he shouldn't have been surprised).

He was going to die on a crappy Saturday night via trap by Chat Noir.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

Shouting, he threw the bracelet away, but it was too late. There was a bright flash, Nino reaching up to cover his eyes as a last line of defense, as he was already huddled on the carpeted floor.

But there was no pain and no death. So, despite not wanting to, he cracked a single eye open and peered back in the direction of the bracelet. It was lying on the floor, the explosion of light seeming to have ceased.

So it wasn't a bomb. It'd be pretty lame of Chat Noir to drop a bomb in his bedroom. Like, super not cool. But, as he was alive and his room wasn't in shambles, it hadn't been a bomb. But it'd _definitely_ been something.

Slowly unfolding, he peered cautiously around the room. Or, at least, tried to, but his focus caught on something right away. Something… floating. And green. And _watching him_.

"Dude…" he muttered out, frowning as the thing, like, what? Blinked at him? "The hell is that?"

"'The hell?'" the thing asked, what might have been its forehead crinkling in curiosity. "Are you referring to me?"

"Holy shit…" Gaping, Nino could think of nothing else to say. Whatever this… thing was, it was alive. And talking. And _green_. And… kind of reminded him of a turtle. Was that a shell? But turtles couldn't fly. Or talk. Then again, he wasn't exactly an expert on animals. But why would Chat Noir give him a talking, flying turtle that caused explosions?

Maybe he was dreaming. He had played an awful lot of Super Mario Brothers the night before. He could see that connection…

"Are you…" Nino's gaze narrowed, "…a koopa?"

"A what?" the thing asked. "I'm not familiar with that word. I'm a kwami—a fairy."

"You sure?" Nino asked. "Cuz you kinda look like a koopa."

"I'm not a 'koopa.' My name is Wayzz."

"I'm _pretty sure_ you're a koopa."

That little face did not look impressed. "How did I end up here?"

"Uh… Chat Noir?"

"I see…" Bulbous green head looking around, "it" appeared almost critical, before focusing back in on Nino. "It would appear that you are my new master. As I said, I am Wayzz, and I am a fairy."

"A… fairy…" Nino repeated. "Right…" Yeah, he had to be dreaming. But why was he dreaming of fairies and Chat Noir? Probably better not to look too deeply into it.

"I'm telling the truth," the fairy—Wayzz—continued. "You've been chosen by Chat Noir and Ladybug to aid them in their struggle. And so they have bestowed upon you me, a miraculous."

"M-miraculous?" Nino fumbled to say, finally sitting up fully as he crossed his legs underneath him. "You mean, like, those things that akumas are always after?"

"Yes. Possessing a miraculous will make you a superhero, similar to Ladybug and Chat Noir. And as I am here with you now, I can only assume that they felt you were worthy of the responsibility."

"Me?" Nino asked skeptically. "Chat Noir and Ladybug thought _I_ was worthy?"

"Apparently."

"Whoa…" Part of Nino still wanted to argue that this was a dream, while another part of him kind of knew it wasn't. But why would Chat Noir and Ladybug, or anyone for that matter, pick him, of all people, to be a superhero? He couldn't even do his homework most of the time.

"You are in shock."

"I'm… something," Nino replied, suddenly hyperaware that he was talking to a _fairy_! A koopa fairy! "I'm- I'm confused… I think…"

"Like I said, I am Wayzz." Flitting down, Wayzz picked up the bracelet before drifting a little closer. "And this is your miraculous now. You must fight alongside Chat Noir and Ladybug to protect Paris from evil. It is now your duty to do so."

"My duty?"

"Yes." Wayzz held the bracelet out to him.

And so, despite not really knowing what he was accepting, Nino reached out and took it. He stared at it for a moment—the thin metal strap and the ornate, turtle shaped jewel. It seemed awfully delicate to be something a superhero would wear.

A _superhero_.

"You must wear that bracelet at all times," Wayzz continued, drawing Nino's gaze. "Without it, we cannot transform."

"Transform?"

"Correct."

"Into a superhero?"

"Yes, Master."

Nino blinked stupidly. "Master? Uh, no, dude, don't call me that."

'"I- then… then what should I call you?" Wayzz looked curious again, and somehow out of place. Nervous maybe? Well, that made two of them.

"Nino is fine. That's my name."

"N-Nino?"

"Yup." He fiddled with the bracelet, but kept his eyes on Wayzz. "'Master.' That's just wrong on so many levels."

"I apologize," Wayzz said, bowing that bulbous head rather formally. "I have always referred to my hosts as 'Master.' For the last two thousand years, in fact. It may take me some time to adjust. Again, I apologize for offending you."

"Ah, no, it- it's fine, little dude. I mean, you can call me whatever you want, I guess. I just- I'm not really the 'master' type." Wayzz blinked. "I'm not offended, really. But, I mean, I'm just… me, and you're… over two thousand years old? That's a lot of years."

"I- Yes, Mast- Nino. I am very old."

"And you've had other… 'hosts?' How- How many?"

"One per generation."

"Oh…" Nino nodded, not sure whether he believed this was happening or not. "And they all made you call them 'Master?'"

"In one form or another. Those, at least, who were part of the unbroken line of guardians. It was… simply tradition."

"Tradition…" Nino repeated. "Okay… Um, unbroken line? Guardians?"

"The protectors of the miraculouses secrets. My bracelet was passed down from parent to child for the last two thousand years. Until now."

"Wh-why now? Why me? Why not your master's kid or whatever?"

"My… previous master had no children," Wayzz said, green gaze drifting to the side. Almost sadly. "And so a decision had to be made."

"And I'm… that decision?" Honestly, Nino wasn't sure he'd been a good one.

"You are the hero that Ladybug and Chat Noir chose. They must feel that you are capable and worthy of being trusted with their very lives. It is a great honor. And also a great responsibility."

"Yeah…" Nino glanced down at the bracelet, abruptly convinced that it was very, very heavy. So if this wasn't a dream and Wayzz was really there, then why had Ladybug and Chat Noir chosen him? Of all the people in Paris, he couldn't honestly be the best. But Wayzz had said they'd picked him because they felt they could trust him?

Why? He hardly ever had anything to do with them. Barely knew them.

Unless…

"Do I know Chat Noir and Ladybug?" he asked, looking again to Wayzz.

The kwami spoke only after an obvious pause. "I cannot reveal any information about Chat Noir and Ladybug without their consent. Should they wish you to know their identities, they will make them known to you."

Nino pursed his lips "Alright… I guess." Another pause, before he held up the bracelet. "So, if I'm supposed to be a superhero now, how does this work?"

Wayzz' nodded and began to explain.

**oOo**

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Adrien muttered, Marinette frowning from where she stood beside him. They were across the street from the wreckage—that was, what was left of Master Fu's shop. Only a skeleton of crisped wood remained, standing in rickety form before them. Yellow caution tape lined the sidewalk and there were still cops loitering around, keeping watch on the crime scene.

Which made it quite difficult for Adrien and Marinette to do the same, despite already knowing the truth of the matter. But they'd wanted to double back and see if there was anything left behind, anything that could give them a lead. After all, this was the first they'd ever heard of Hawkmoth making direct contact with someone. Yet, they were barred from the scene. Not like the police were going to let two teenagers wander around.

"We could transform," Marinette said suddenly, looking up at him. "They wouldn't stop Ladybug and Chat Noir from investigating."

"That's true…" Adrien agreed thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he did. "We might not have any other choice." They'd kind of wanted to remain discreet, but maybe that simply wasn't going to be possible.

Lips pooching, Marinette glanced quickly away, tapping her fingers together before—much more subtly this time—lifting her gaze to him again. His green eyes were narrowed, arms crossed over his chest as he stared critically across the street. As if, should he stare hard enough, answers would come magically from the debris.

It was cute, really, his sheer determination, and brought a small grin to her face.

"C'mon," she finally murmured, reaching toward him. She'd meant to grab his wrist—as she'd done so many times with Chat—but he'd begun to unfold his arms upon seeing her move, as though to meet her halfway, and she'd somehow ended up with his hand in hers instead of… any other part of him.

It was a split-second panic, Marinette staring down at their connected limbs with wide-eyes. She had two options—snap away and make it clear the whole thing had been an accident, or roll with it. Grabbing Adrien's wrist and grabbing his hand were two very different things, but… it wasn't like they hadn't done similarly before. Just three nights ago, they'd sat on a bench and held hands. True, he'd been upset, but facts were facts. And, well, they'd slept in the same bed multiple times.

And he'd caressed her _bare side_.

Roll with it—that was probably the wiser option. Maybe…

Finalizing her decision during the quick shock that had jolted through her, she headed around in front of him, hand gripping his as she pulled him along behind. He stumbled after her before catching up, allowing her to drag him a good ways down the street. They eventually came upon a conglomerate of tightly packed buildings, Marinette knowing the exact alley that would provide them safe cover.

Ducking in, she jerked him after, both of them shrouded in shadows as she pulled him behind a dumpster.

"How romantic," Adrien drawled, giving the filthy alley a once-over before curling his nose.

"It does the job," Marinette said shortly, having turned to face him. He really was tall, the fact made all the more apparent in such close quarters. She had to pull her head back a considerable amount to look at him, which he clearly found amusing—if the way he smirked had anything to say on the matter.

Despite the illogic of doing so, their hands were still clasped together, Marinette's heart sending out a wave of queasiness when his thumb gently rubbed against her bare skin.

"Is that what you're going to say on our first date?" he asked, still smirking as he did—which, of course, made it impossible for her to take anything he said seriously. "Because it honestly makes me a little afraid—you'll end up taking me to some brawl bar in a bad part of town."

"I'm sure you could handle it," she said dryly. "And who said anything about any dates, huh?" She almost tugged her hand from his, but ultimately found that she couldn't. Or that she just didn't want to. "The way you say it, sounds as though it's inevitable."

He waggled his eyebrows, pulling her hand up until it was just beneath his lips. "Isn't it?" Gently, he kissed the backs of her knuckles, still wearing that ridiculous smirk. Putting her free hand on her hip, Marinette pursed her lips. She wondered, sometimes, what he'd do if she _honestly_ reciprocated his flirting. And she didn't mean their playful banter. Rather, what he'd do if she took up the date idea, or even something more.

But no, she wasn't brave enough to try. She could see it already, the dumbfounded look that would cross his features, before that smarmy expression faded. He'd apologize for giving her the wrong idea, be the gentlemen they both knew he actually was.

No, she couldn't do it.

Nope, nope, nope!

Instead, she settled for the norm—for what was safe. "I certainly hope not." Taking her hand back—and finally slipping it from his own—she poked him lightly in the chest.

"Do you?" he asked, ever devious. "And here I thought we'd go on a few dates, get married, adopt a cat-"

"I'm much more of a dog person."

"Adopt a do- A _dog_?" He cringed. "Why would you want a dog? They're so…"

"Adorable?"

"Needy…"

Marinette cast him the flattest, most unimpressed look she could muster.

To which he rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pinking. "…What?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing." She cleared her throat. "Here, I'll make you a deal," she continued, finally sporting a grin of her own as she reached up and tapped him lightly on the nose. "You hire the wedding planner," she backed up a teasing step, "and I'll hire the divorce attorney."

He groaned, hand slamming to his chest as he stumbled back a dramatic step. "My Lady!" he cried. "You wound me!"

"Yeah, I bet."

"It's a fatal wound! I'm dying!"

"Uh huh, sure." Sighing, she waited through his theatrics before turning the conversation onto more important topics. "C'mon, we need to transform. Investigate, all that."

"I'm too depressed…" he moaned, slumping.

"Well, stay here if you want, but I don't wanna be stuck in this stinky ally with your forever." Opening her purse, Tikki flitted out, zooming around her head.

"This alley _is_ purr-itty smelly," Adrien conceded.

"It's not the alley I'm worried about."

He glared. "Rude."

Offering him only a wink in response, she called to Tikki, transforming into Ladybug with a bright flash. The power seeped in, filling her to the brim with what felt like a deep, elated breath. Freedom, strength—it never got old. She was inhaling as it finished, eyes closed for only a moment before she fluttered them open and looked to Adrien.

Adrien, who was standing there, watching her, _not_ transforming.

Shifting her weight, she put a gloved hand back on her hip and gestured him up and down. "You going to follow suit or what?"

He chuckled, taking a huffing breath before pushing his hair back out of his eyes. The blonde locks were getting long, shaggy even, and she wondered when he'd decide to cut them.

"Was that pun intentional?" he asked suggestively. "Or were you just trying to impress me?"

"As if I needed to try."

"Touché." With that, he released Plagg from his bag before a lightning flash of green washed up over him, leaving not Adrien, but Chat Noir standing before her. He smirked, mock-saluting her before bounding up into the air. Tail snapping out behind, he landed on the roof of the building beside them, Ladybug grinning just a bit before swinging up after.

Back in the bright, afternoon sunlight, she spotted him prancing away on all fours—red bottoms of his boots flashing—before he reached the edge of the roof and turned to her. Which was when she noticed it.

Jogging up beside him, she gently touched his arm, asking him to stay despite how he'd pulled away, as though to jump off again. "Chat, your staff."

"Hmm?" he asked, cat eyes going wide as he reached around to the base of his spine. But what he was looking for was now located on each one of his hips—much like Ladybug's own yoyos were attached. Grabbing _both_ staves, he hummed thoughtfully to himself as he looked at them, before flipping both and shoving their ends together. They didn't attach, much to his obvious annoyance.

"Maybe it's like my yoyo," Ladybug offered, leaning in closer to get a better look. "Maybe it's not one, but two."

"You think?" Taking one of the staves, he held it out and pressed as he usually did, causing it to extend. Once it was a decent length, he gripped it around the middle and shook it lightly, as though to break it in half.

What would have once been two separate pieces parted just the same, but this time there was a metal chain holding them together, Ladybug watching as Chat's eyes lit up.

"Aw, cool," he purred, grin widening as the two ends dangled, his gloved hands gripping the chain in the middle. He turned to the other staff, extending it just a bit before whipping it lightly, causing the top half to snap off and swing down by a chain just as the other had. " _Awesome_!"

"Nunchakus," Ladybug stated.

"Yeah!" Swinging the second one in a slight circle, he watched it, grin stretching into that full, teethe smile that Marinette had come to hope to see on him more often. "This is _way_ better than red boots."

Ladybug didn't really register that she was smiling too, hands folding together before her as she watched him swing the weapon faster—as though trying to get a feel for it. He was clearly enjoying himself, bouncing on his toes as he shifted back and forth, before snapping the nunchacku up over his shoulder and then quickly down under his arm with a speed that would likely knock out anyone who got in the way.

"Careful," she advised, when he began spinning the other one and almost lambasted himself in the face.

"I'm gettin' the hang of it," he muttered, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focused on snapping the weapon back and forth in a complicated array of moves. But, much like she did with her yoyos, he was adapting quickly.

All part of their powers, more than likely.

After a few twirling gestures, he snapped them back together, condensed each staff, and clipped both back to his hips.

He patted them affectionately.

"This is good," he said as he looked up at her. "This means we're making, like, progress. Or that I am—like you." Yet, despite the supposed accuracy of his statements, he sounded questioning. When Ladybug had gotten her second yoyo, it'd been right after they'd revealed their identities to one another. And now Chat had an additional staff and abilities.

Looking back, Ladybug recalled struggling during the time of their reveal—with his identity and putting his two egos together. The notion seemed so far away in those moments, despite that hardly being the truth of the matter. Still, she'd overcome it; she'd dealt with it.

Was this new development the result of the fight they'd had a few days prior? Had it… pushed Chat in some way?

Really, this wasn't exactly the best pattern. Tikki had said some things would be a struggle, but Ladybug didn't like the idea of the only time they progressed being when they went through some kind of emotional catastrophe.

"Hey." Chat took up the short distance between them, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look like that."

"It just seems ridiculous," she said quietly, unconsciously pulling her hand up and laying it over his. "There's no clear way to make this 'progress,' and it only happens when we…" She shook her head.

"Look, I… I get what you're saying," he started, tone gentle. "But I actually do believe that- that this is good." She met his gaze. "I mean, it sucked when you were mad at me. Like, I can't even explain how much it sucked."

"Chat…"

"But I learned something too. About myself. I've been thinking it over the last few days, mostly because my mom used to struggle with this kind of stuff too. So I guess that kind of gives me a bird's eye perspective or something." Head cocking slightly, Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows. "You have to understand, Mari, I… My mom disappeared without any explanation. My dad is… hardly ever there. The idea of people…" He sighed. "Okay, this might sound pathetic or whatever, but, just, bear with me, okay?"

"It won't sound pathetic," she assured, squeezing his hand.

He smiled weakly, taking a deep breath. "My mom had anxiety issues, and I think my dad does too, though he hides it behind this… façade of seriousness. It's part of the reason I was homeschooled. Why they kept me so sheltered. I don't have the same kind of anxiety issues as my parents, but I am… afraid, sometimes. Of people leaving.

"When you found out I'd… lied to you, I just… I was so sure you were never going to want anything to do with me again. It's stupid, looking back."

"It's not stupid."

"Maybe not, I don't know." He huffed. "I just knew that lying was one of the things you hated most and I… I'm used to people leaving, Mari. To people just… not being there. Like I'm not enough to keep them around."

"Adrien…"

"Let me finish, okay?" He licked his lips, as though trying to gather his thoughts, and placed his remaining hand on her other shoulder. "I don't know if you feel the same way I do, but you're one of the best friends I have. One of the only friends I have. And I know you don't have to hang around with me. You know everybody, and everybody knows you. And everybody _likes_ you. You just… fit in wherever you want and people… adore you. I'm not saying that's bad. It's just… people like that are…

"They're intimidating. And trying to be close to them can be… nerve-wracking. Because I know there are people that you'd be way better off spending time with and sometimes there's this 'thing' inside of me that _knows_ you'll figure that out eventually. And it's stupid, and illogical, and…" He took a deep breath, Ladybug wanting so badly to say something, to tell him how wrong he was, but she held herself back—if only because he'd asked her to.

"And when we fought, I thought maybe that was it. That you'd finally seen enough to know I wasn't worth it. But…"

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "You came _back_ ," he whispered, almost as though the words pained him to say.

"I never left, Chat," she finally replied, voice steady.

"I know," he agreed, nodding once as he stared at their feet. "I'm just- It's hard to explain. When you… when you forgave me, you have no idea how much that meant.

"No one's ever come back to me."

"I never left," she repeated, reaching up and laying a gentle hand on his cheek. "I'll never leave you. You're my partner. I wouldn't want anyone else—there's no one better than you."

"See, _that_ ," he replied quietly, hands slipping from her person as he crouched down in front of her—almost as though it were too much for him to stay on her level. "No one's ever said stuff like that to me before. Not the way you say it."

For a moment, she simply stood, staring down at the top of his head. There was a slight breeze whistling through her hair, the dying afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the rooftops.

Slowly, she bent down, so as to pull his gaze even with hers. "You believe me, don't you?" she asked quietly. "When I say I'll never leave you?"

His smile was small, but somehow vulnerable. Precious. "I think that's it," he murmured. "I think- I think I _do_ believe you."

As if that was the whole point he'd been trying to make.

Ladybug wanted to smile back, to perhaps touch her fingers to his cheek again-

But the sounds of screaming civilians jerked them both from the moment. Standing abruptly, their expressions hardened, gazes becoming intent as they listened. The ruckus wasn't far—not by the sounds of it. It came from the direction of the Eiffel Tower.

Sharing one last look between each other, they took off, hearts picking up with their adrenaline as they vaulted between streets and sprinted over shingles. It wasn't until they were making it over the final stretch that took them to the roof of Place de Varsovie that they finally got a good look at the commotion. Going to the edge of the stone roof, they peered down toward the fountain, watching as people ran, screaming, from the scene. Some clambered up the side stairs, while others climbed the grassy hills toward the road.

In the clearing, at the base of the stairs, was an animal. Large, red, tail whipping. It looked like…

"Is that… a dog?" Chat asked.

"Uh… Maybe?" Ladybug had no idea. But whatever it was, it was feral. Teeth bared, it darted at anyone who dared get too close, large, sharp teeth apparent even at their distance.

"See, I told you," Chat said as he looked at her. "Dogs are bad news."

She didn't bother with a response. Instead, crouching at the edge, she narrowed her eyes and watched the animal more closely. It wasn't going far, or chasing anyone. It appeared to be stalking only in the area behind the fountain, pacing in its obvious aggression.

"That doesn't look like a dog…" she muttered. There was something off about it.

"It's more like…" Chat tapped his chin thoughtfully, "…a giant fox."

As soon as the word left his lips, Ladybug felt a cold chill sweep down along her spine. And she could tell by Chat's wide eyes that he was feeling the exact same thing.

Heart beating a bit faster, Ladybug straightened. Grabbing one of her yoyos, she hooked her finger through the loop before pulling back and throwing it out hard. The spotted base zipped through the air, her aim holding true as it sprang into the fox's personal space, just barely skimming those ruddy hairs before the animal vanished into thin air.

Just an illusion.

Pulling her yoyo back, Ladybug gripped it hard, teeth gritting as she looked further out over the scene. Chat was doing the same thing, before apparently deciding he wanted a closer look. Extending one of his staves, he shot down off the roof and landed square where the fox had been only moments before.

Jumping down, Ladybug jogged up after him, the two of them once more looking intently around the scene for anything. Any clue—the sound of a flute, a flash of orange. Something.

They didn't have to look long.

"Bra-vo." Whipping around, they armed themselves, watching as a single figure leisurely descended the right staircase from the higher level. She was slow-clapping, a smile creasing her lips beneath her heavily banged forehead. "As dependable as always."

"Volpina," Chat hissed.

"Lila," Ladybug murmured under her breath. It was the same girl—same outfit, same long hair. Same condescending tone.

"So flattered you remember me," she went on, ever-grinning. "But, I'm not sorry to say, you're not dealing with quite the same girl as before." Hand coming up, she cupped it around her foxtail necklace, Ladybug scowling. "Master of illusions I may be, but fake I am not."

"How did you get the real thing?" Chat asked, despite the fact that they both knew the probable answer.

"A gift," she confirmed. "For my excellent attitude."

A threat if Ladybug had ever heard one.

"Of course, you know what I want." Dropping her miraculous back to her chest, she held a hand out toward them, gaze darkening. "Give me your miraculouses."

"For who? Hawkmoth?" Ladybug asked. "You have a miraculous of your own now. Why work for him?"

"Why shouldn't I? He wants the same thing I do." She was looking directly at Ladybug. "To see you _destroyed_."

Snarling, Chat extended his staff before spinning it around his back, as though readying himself for any potential confrontation. Volpina wasn't the least bit perturbed by his behavior, however. Rather, she took a few steps forward before—with a hazy seam—splitting into two. The identical Volpinas stood side by side, retrieving their flutes from their backs before leaning them easily on their shoulders.

It quickly occurred to Ladybug that the Volpina they'd been talking to could be as much of an illusion as the second one. Stepping defensively closer to Chat, she peered around as much as she dared, hoping to be able to anticipate whatever sneak attack the real Volpina had in mind.

"Don't be so paranoid," the Volpinas said in unison. "I want the pleasure of ending you myself." Her smiles had turned to scowls, Ladybug pulling her yoyo up in defense just as their two enemies bolted forward.

Shoulder twisting, Ladybug reacted, shooting her yoyo forward as she had with the fox. Yet, just as it was about to the collide with the Volpina on the right, that flute came up and smacked the yoyo away, string going lax as it snapped to the side.

For a second, Ladybug then comforted herself with knowing that was the real one, but just as the confirmation flitted through her thoughts, the Volpina on the left darted for Chat, flute extended as he pulled his staff up to defend against the swiping blow.

Their weapons collided, yet the fake Volpina didn't disappear.

Attention twitching back, Ladybug took in the way the right Volpina grinned again, before raising her yoyo with the string held taut to defend against the flute headed her way. Wielding it like a baton, Volpina slashed down toward her, Ladybug's legs straining as her yoyo string bowed inward against the flute.

Volpina was strong—very strong—and Ladybug stumbled back.

Chat was no longer beside her. She could hear that he was engaged in combat, Ladybug not daring to look away from her own foe to see how far off he'd drifted as a consequence.

Scowling, she glared, Volpina tapping her flute against her palm with a confident cock of her hips. What was probably most irking was that her attitude was relatively justified. Ladybug didn't have the advantage in close-quarters combat. She could fight hand to hand, certainly, but that still put her at a disadvantage against Volpina's flute. Her weapon wasn't suited to such—not as Chat's was. She needed room to maneuver and space to throw. All details she could tell Volpina knew just as well.

She had Lucky Charm of course, but she didn't dare use it. They weren't dealing with an akuma or petty crime. This was a miraculous user, just like them. A miraculous user that didn't have a time limit, as Master Fu had explained. She couldn't afford to be in a position where she'd detransform, which meant she had only her yoyos and her wits at her disposal.

Once more wielding her flute, Volpina slashed forward, Ladybug holding up her yoyo with the string pulled tight once again. She blocked the blow, teeth gritting as she then criss-crossed her arms and looped the string securely, catching them together.

But the flute was smooth—likely just as invincible as Ladybug's yoyo. And so as Volpina leaned back and kicked out, the flute easily slid from the yoyo's confines, Ladybug only barely quick enough to lower her fist to block the incoming hit before stumbling back once again.

But Volpina wasn't letting up this time. Slamming her foot back down, she pivoted into a roundhouse, Ladybug quickly blocking the blow with a raised forearm. In the same moment, she looped her yoyo string around Volpina's ankle, locking her in place.

The move didn't deter Volpina. Using Ladybug's hold on her as a backboard, she shoved in toward her before spinning her whole body around. Ladybug either had to put up with her weight or drop her hold, a decision that had to be made in a split second. Because Volpina was twisting midair, pulling her other leg up and around until she was kicking toward Ladybug's head.

She ducked, Volpina's leg skimming just barely over her hair. Deciding to take advantage of the momentum that had been thrust into her by Volpina's weight, Ladybug grit her teeth, strained her arms, and began to bend around. Balancing on her toes, she jerked her catch around, gaining speed as she spun.

Before Volpina could manage to turn the situation in her favor, Ladybug loosened her hold and tossed. Volpina went soaring back, righting herself midair before landing some five meters back. Her toes skid against the concrete, Ladybug readying herself for another assault once Volpina bounced back her way.

What she needed to do was get the Fox miraculous—steal it just as theirs were trying to be stolen. But the odds of doing so put a stopper in any plan. Though Volpina's miraculous was loose and in clear sight, the chain was likely as invincible as any other part of their suits. Which meant it couldn't just be yanked free—she had to somehow get it over Volpina's head and massive amounts of hair.

In those circumstances—as Volpina was rushing her again—doing such a thing was just too improbable to consider. She didn't have distance, didn't have the time to form a plan. And there was no guarantee that Lucky Charm would be successful against the strength of another miraculous. As of then, the only thing she could focus on was defense and keeping her own far more vulnerable miraculous safe.

Yoyo still in hand, she back-flipped out of the way of the incoming flute, cartwheeling legs fending off the onslaught as she caught herself on her hands. Pushing back, she then vaulted out of the way, landing in a crouch before coiling her strength and darting forward.

She'd wanted to catch her foe with her yoyo, tie her arms down before taking the flute. But Volpina's pose was mid-slice, flute held aloft, and made doing so impossible. Instead, Ladybug aimed to knock her off balance, latching around her middle to body-slam her forward.

But just as she did, Volpina vanished.

No, vanished was the wrong word. Rather, slipping into nothing but an orange flare, she flitted off. Spinning, Ladybug watched the tiny blur, growling in frustration when Volpina dropped effortlessly down out of the air a second later. She was laughing, Ladybug's free hand balling into a fist while her other gripped tightly around her yoyo.

There was no immediate move made to come at her. Using her flute like a cane, Volpina leaned lazily upon it, her lax attitude only infuriating Ladybug further.

Rage that, perhaps, clouded what other common sense would have kept her on her toes—kept her considering every possible variable.

"Ladybug!" Chat shouted across the clearing. "Behind y-" He was cut off as his own Volpina, in his moment of distraction, kicked him square in the abdomen from the ground with both feet, sending him flying over the edge and into the nearby fountain.

But Ladybug had taken his meaning.

Having no idea what could possibly be coming at her back, she twisted on her toes, readying any defenses she could muster. In the same moment, a shining, silver blade, one that graduated to a graceful point, stabbed through where she'd previously been standing.

Eyes wide, she trailed the glimmering blade up to its source, barely landing back on both feet as she did.

Heart pounding, thudding each second into a nauseating kind of slow motion, Ladybug came face to face with another mask as she looked up, their noses only a hair's breadth apart. Despite having missed in the initial stab, a gloved hand reached over, the fluttering of wings echoing in Ladybug's ears as fingers sliced through her hair before latching down tightly.

Continuing to thrust forward from the initial advance, the newcomer shot over her, retracting the blade in the same moment that Ladybug was lifted from the ground.

With little to no effort, she was yanked up by her head and thrown, soaring beyond where Chat had landed and into the spray of the fountain. With a great splash, she was submerged, quickly struggling despite how her abused locks of hair throbbed with a kind of phantom pain that was soon subdued by the power of her miraculous.

Gasping, she burst to the surface, pushing her hair back as quickly as she could, simultaneously settling her stance.

But no aggression came. It was Chat who grabbed her arm, his posture defensive as he held his staff out before them—as though to fend off their foes. It gave Ladybug the time she needed to blink away the water, her focus landing on the trio standing at the edge of the fountain.

Two Volpinas on either side and a Queen Bee—right front and center.

Ladybug snarled.

The three were hardly fazed by her frustration, however. The two Volpinas smiled, while the Bee's expression remained unchanged—as flat and empty as her blue eyes. Eyes that were surrounded in a corner-pointed yellow mask, bordered in black. Her uniform was made up of the same colors, sporting a black turtleneck that tapered to a point down between her yellow suited breasts. Bordering her ribs, stretching in "V" outlines, were three stripes, a center gap of yellow splitting them down the line of her navel. The stripes looked to stretch around her back, where four spidery-veined, transparent insect wings lay stationary.

Around her waist was a black, cloth belt, fastened at the hips with delicate honeycomb pins that allowed for fabric tails to flutter down around her thighs. The legs of the suit matched, a sweeping stroke of black expanding from her belt and across her thighs, twisting around her knees and calves to end covering her feet—as though the yellow of her legs was wrapped in a thick ribbon.

From her fingers to just below her shoulders, her gloves were black, a line of fine, delicate yellow fur trailing down her forearms—like the soft hairs of a honeybee.

As though sheathed against the underside of her wrist, her pointed blade protruded beneath her hand, glimmering in the setting sun like a deadly stinger.

Her hair was blonde, pulled back in a high ponytail, and the bee comb was nestled tightly against the black ribbon holding it all aloft.

"You're outmatched," the Volpinas claimed together, their satisfied look only deepening as they simultaneously bent down on one knee, as if needing a better vantage point with which to view the two standing in the water below. "Give us your miraculouses.'"

Queen Bee said nothing, visage completely empty.

"Hardly," Ladybug growled. "You want them, come and get them."

"Fine, have it your way." Together, the Volpinas glanced up at their companion, as if giving some silent signal. Without a word, Queen Bee pulled her blade in toward her side, getting on her toes as though ready to dart forward.

But Ladybug knew what she had to do.

She had to make this a fight she could win.

Jerking her arm out of Chat's hold, she spun and threw her yoyo. It flew with ease, souring over the fountain, the street, and catching on a lamppost lining the bridge over the Seine.

Casting Chat only one quick look, she settled herself with her faith in him and allowed the yoyo to jerk her from the water. Wind whipping her face, she vaulted up, airborne and moving fast over the street and gawking people below.

She landed atop the lamppost with ease, looking back only quickly to satisfy the knowledge that she'd been followed. As she'd hoped, it was Queen Bee that flew after her, blade outstretched.

It wasn't a comforting notion, leaving Chat alone to deal with Volpina. But she was at too much of a disadvantage on the ground—especially with other flying miraculous holders.

In the air, she stood a chance.

Teeth gritting, she turned and tossed the yoyo out again, the round base arcing up and lacing itself to one of the first level rungs of the Eiffel Tower.

Just as Queen Bee was closing in.

Giving in to the pull of her yoyo, she leapt once again into the air, hurdling toward the Tower with her newest enemy on her tail. Pulling her other yoyo from her hip, she launched it out as well, beneath the bottom arc of the tower. It caught on the far side, the duel pull of the yoyos giving Ladybug speed as well as distance.

She darted beneath the tower, releasing her first yoyo from its hold. It snapped back to her, the one still attached carrying her in a wide circle beneath the tower, out the other side, and up. Soaring over the first level balcony, she tugged her second yoyo loose, ignoring the tourists that stared up at her.

Pointing her toes, she directed herself back through the tower, aiming right down through the open square in the middle.

Just as Queen Bee was darting under in pursuit.

Yoyos in her hands, she braced her muscles for impact, feet slamming hard into those fluttering wings. Her blow knocked Bee off balance, obviously, and interfered with her flying. She spiraled in the air, Ladybug only staying atop her back for a moment before tossing he yoyo out again.

Swinging toward one of the open arcs at the base of the tower, she turned midair and threw her second yoyo, latching it to the other side and snapping her momentum in the opposite direction.

Teeth gritting, she retracted her first yoyo, this time sweeping up at Bee from below—before she'd had time to fully recover from the previous blow. Ladybug's toes slammed into her abdomen, shoving her back up against any of the distance Bee had lost in the first assault.

But, this time, Queen Bee was better prepared. Despite the way Ladybug's toes jammed into her stomach, she reached out and grabbed her calves, nails digging into Ladybug's suit. Her grip was strong and didn't shake off as Ladybug pulled herself away with her yoyo, forcing her to drag Bee through the air with her.

Kicking out, she managed to shake Queen Bee loose as she swung around in a wide circle. Wings fluttering, Bee steadied herself easily, expression utterly unfazed as their eyes met.

Her gaze was cold, unwavering, and sent a chill down Ladybug's spine.

Lips pursing, she ignored the sensation and zipped upward with her yoyo, only snapping it from the tower once she'd pulled herself into an upside-down crouch against one of the iron support beams. Launching herself free, she clipped her yoyos to her hips as she arrowed downward, hands outstretched.

The plan was blatant, and had only a small chance at success, but there was a certain degree of haste and quick thinking she had to keep up to deal with these enemies. Which meant she had to be constantly moving or get caught.

A flash of silver gave away what was waiting for her. In one swift pull, that stinging, silver blade darted out of the sheath hidden in Queen Bee's wrist.

Abandoning her charge, Ladybug slung her yoyo up straight, the base latching just as that blade was pulled up toward her. With a harsh bounce, she spread her legs and avoided being slashed, vaulting upward.

The snap from her yoyo sent her up onto the lower balcony of the tower, the tourists that had been watching the clash scattering as she flipped through the air and landed, yoyo zipping in after her.

Queen Bee dove up through the center of the tower a moment later, gasps echoing around the deck as people scurried to get away.

But Ladybug was ready. Tossing out her yoyo, she intended to wrap Bee up in the string and yank her to the floor. But as her yoyo flew by that blonde hair in order to circle back around, Queen Bee merely raised her blade and reached back behind. Without even looking, she knocked the yoyo aside, Ladybug remembering too late about her sensitivity to intention.

Jerking her blade back a second later, Bee lunged down just as Ladybug's yoyo returned. Eyes wide, Ladybug ducked and rolled to the side, turning just in time to watch that blade impale itself through the floor deck. It left a clean slice when Bee jerked her weapon free, feet firmly planted on the floor as she slowly dragged her attention around to Ladybug.

Without even a blink of unease, she raised her blade again and stalked forward.

Ladybug was left trying to configure any plan she could. But how did she fight someone that could predict her moves before she made them? All she could do was keep on as she was, acting on the fly without predisposition. It was the only way to counter Queen Bee's abilities—the only reason she'd managed to stay ahead for what little time she had.

Dodging the blade as it came at her, Ladybug stayed on her toes, the slow way in which Queen Bee preyed upon her finally giving away a slight amount of her inner dialogue. Because these swipes were hard, deadly, and full of intent.

Whoever this miraculous user was, she _despised_ Ladybug—a hatred that, given power, made her extremely dangerous.

Queen Bee wasn't aiming for the miraculous. No, that was secondary, something to be taken as a reward. Something to be salvaged in the aftermath.

That blade kept coming, Ladybug at a loss for what to do as they danced around the balcony. She couldn't read Bee's movements, couldn't predict how she'd swing, and so was left in the vulnerable position of getting out of the way by only the skin of her teeth. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she began to adapt—before she unintentionally read one strike too early and Queen Bee sensed which way she'd move.

She couldn't let herself get to that point—she also couldn't let herself form a strategy.

She didn't know what to do.

And it was as that thought flitted through her head that she moved just a step too slow. The blade cut too close, Ladybug gasping as the edge sliced against her retreating side. It slashed through her typically indestructible uniform, leaving a gaping rip as blood seeped from the cut beneath her ribs.

Ladybug panted, stumbling as she raised her hand to the wound, the nip of the dusky air against her exposed, injured flesh sending a jarring chill through her whole body. The cut wasn't deep, but it bled. And she knew, despite how she couldn't feel it then, that as soon as she was out of uniform, she'd bear the full effects—unless she could heal the wound as she did other damage with her own abilities.

Yet, none of that would matter if she didn't make it out of this.

Her shock at being hit, at her defenses being breached, left her vulnerable—an opportunity that Queen Bee readily took. Having pulled her blade back, she pivoted and raised her leg, kicking out and slamming Ladybug hard in the neck with the side of her booted foot. With the added strength of her miraculous, she knocked her into one of the supports, head colliding hard with iron beam.

There wasn't any apparent damage, but the mere force of the blow had sent Ladybug sprawling to the floor. Landing heavily, she realized the openness of her position as it was happening, eyes darting up to take in the way Queen Bee lorded over her.

How she raised her arm, expression completely empty, and readied her blade. The light from the setting sun glinted off the ancient metal, flashing as it slashed through the air.

And Ladybug knew—as though that shining edge were the guillotine slamming down upon her—that the blade would rip through, break what had once been indestructible defenses, and leave her as nothing more than Marinette. Powerless and alone.

Before she turned to nothing.

She didn't think, didn't consider. She instinctively went for the lone defense she had—the single weapon at her disposal. Even if her suit couldn't stand up against that blade, perhaps her yoyo could.

Flinching away, she closed her eyes and pushed it forward—the only small, tiny safeguard she had.

Body tense, muscles tight with anticipation, she curled up on herself and prepared as best she could in the few moments that remained.

Yet, it wasn't the searing impression of flesh splitting that jarred through her. Rather, it was an echo—a tremble that shuddered through her whole body. As though the blade had come down on a metal plate, only to send the vibrations of the blow trickling from her fingertips outward.

Knowing better than to hesitate when there was no time to give to such things, Ladybug whipped her attention up. Just in time to see Queen Bee stumbling back, as though she'd been rebuffed.

In Ladybug's hands, what had once been a yoyo was no more. It'd split in two, each spotted side capping the weighted ends of a glowing, pink staff. It was heavy, nearly as long as she was tall, and likely the secret that'd been hidden in the confines of her additional yoyo.

An unexpected surprise, which was, perhaps, exactly what Ladybug needed.

Bounding to her feet, she didn't give herself time to think as she ran forward.

As she gripped the staff tight, grit her teeth—

And _swung_.

She didn't have any experience with the weapon, didn't have any idea how to use it. All she had to rely on was instinct and the notion that, perhaps, the power of her miraculous would give her the inherent knowhow to act.

Each side of the staff was heavily weighted, drawing her forward as she swung it hard in Queen Bee's direction. Which forced the other girl to continue stumbling back, if only to avoid being broadsided.

But Ladybug didn't allow her momentum to come to a stop. Holding tight, she let the staff carry her around in full circle after circle, spinning as she swung it again and again and again, gaining strength and speed with each turn.

Queen Bee had raised her blade, blocking the blows. But it wasn't enough, the sheer burden of each collision sending her fumbling continually back. It wasn't until Ladybug had backed her up against one of the outer banisters that she was forced to change her tactics. The end of the staff was coming down with enough force to more than destroy a human skull and Bee took the necessary risk in lowering her defenses to try and flit back out the way.

The weapon skimmed down against her shoulder, barely missing her as Ladybug blasted the staff against the metal banister. It completely shattered the chain-link buffer, before destroying the protective bars and colliding with the metal floor—leaving a giant dent its wake.

Ladybug didn't pause to consider the damage. Spinning away from the edge, she dashed for Queen Bee again, bringing the staff down hard as her foe made attempts to bolt away. But Bee was forced to abandon any thoughts of flight, if only to once again hold her blade up in defense.

She was knocked down onto her knee, both hands on her blade as she cringed against the sheer force of the hit. One that Ladybug quickly dragged away, once again yanking the staff out in a wide, thrust driven circle that gathered only more force as she twisted on her heels.

The weighted end pulled on her muscles—like a rock being whirled in a net—and tugged her forward. Queen Bee ducked back just in time, bending back horizontal as the deadly end of the staff skimmed above her nose.

The momentum couldn't be stopped and Ladybug's spinning was too fast. Queen Bee was forced to retract her blade and backflip onto her hands, before bounding out the way—which allowed her to push off into the air, wings buzzing as she darted up and out of the way.

Stumbling in her abrupt attempts to stop the momentum of the staff, Ladybug snarled up at the hovering Bee, the end of her weapon clunking harshly against the metal floor. She could reach Queen Bee if she wanted, of course—she had her yoyo, after all. But it was one thing to fight with the weighted staff on the ground without thinking, and quite another to go swinging through the air with such a heavy rod weighing down her every move—especially with no practice and an enemy who wasn't dealing with such limitations.

She would wait. If Queen Bee wanted her, then she'd have to come get her.

Picking up the staff, Ladybug slammed it heavily over her shoulder, balancing it there as she straightened. She put her free hand on her hip and kept her eyes trained on Queen Bee, daring her to touch back down.

There was no reading Bee's expression—it remained unmoved, the inaction and silence stretching and stretching as those fluttering wings held her aloft. Beneath the tower, the hissing panic of civilians running continued to drift up toward their feet. But it wasn't enough to stand up against the wisping breeze that whistled between the iron supports of the tower, or break through the orange glare shifting in from the setting sun.

They were alone, gazes locked in the overflowing tension between them.

Tension that had to snap one way or another.

But it wasn't interrupted in the way Ladybug would have expected. Queen Bee didn't unsheathe her blade again and come barreling down toward her. Instead, continually floating out of reach, she closed her eyes.

Ladybug narrowed her own, pulse beating fast as she digested the strange behavior. It took her off guard, the mere idea that her opponent—in the heat of combat—would dare to close herself off from the world. It made Ladybug slow to react, thoughts gathering against the mental whiplash. She gripped her staff, reached for her yoyo, and was wishing too late that she'd acted faster.

Only seconds had ticked by, but they seemed to stretch to minutes, each pounding heartbeat drumming loudly in Ladybug's ears.

Those flat, unfeeling eyes opened above her, the blue of Queen Bee's irises having leaked away to leave behind a pearly, foggy white. A change that resonated gradually through the rest of her body—like watching a ghost possess an empty body.

That determined hatred vanished, replaced by a sort of easy, calculated stiffness that was, to Ladybug, just as dangerous. She didn't know what was happening—what was going on. If this was part of Queen Bee's power or if something else was going on behind the scenes. Which left Ladybug, once again, defensive against whatever was to come.

She'd only just gotten back the upper hand, and yet more and more curveballs kept hurling in her direction.

What if it was too much?

What if she lost?

Teeth grinding, Ladybug watched in apprehensive stillness as Queen Bee slowly lowered herself to the balcony floor. They stood some six meters apart, neither able to reach the other with any ease. It was Queen Bee's strange behavior that stopped Ladybug from taking action, causing her to be wary of that which she couldn't comprehend. She didn't know what was happening, what other tricks Bee had up her sleeve, and she didn't know whether it was wiser to wait or charge. It left her motionless, body vibrating with adrenaline that twitched and jolted inside her skin.

Slowly, Bee's pearly eyes blinked, her thin, pointed blade once more slipping from the hidden sheath on her wrist. But this time it didn't merely protrude. Rather, she snapped it out completely, a hilt-less handle gripped in her hand. With a knowing sort of grace, she spread her legs into a steady stance, before bending her front leg so it was balanced on the toe. She then pulled the blade up behind her head, holding it aloft as she stretched her other flat before her.

The posture was well balanced, deliberate, and seemed to speak of experience that Ladybug knew Queen Bee couldn't possibly have.

And yet, the certainty of her disposition told another story, one that had to be believed if only for the sake of defense.

Pulse beating fast in her throat, Ladybug took her own staff in both hands, legs spread wide as she steadied the yet unfamiliar weight. No matter what was to come, she had to be ready—to be as prepared as she possibly could be.

Their steady breathing ricocheted between them, each moment stretching longer than the last.

Until, finally, those pearly eyes narrowed and Ladybug knew it was coming.

What was coming, however, was a mystery until she was struggling to defend against it.

Queen Bee flew at her with a flurry of silver slashes that were so quick, and so constant, that Ladybug could hardly see where one started and the other began. All she could focus on was using her own staff to parry, forced to give in to total instinct as she was granted no time to consider otherwise. Perhaps it was reflex that existed within her miraculous, but it didn't have a place in her—in Marinette. And it was her own doubt, her own lack of experience, that interfered with any sort of gut reaction that might have given her some benefit.

She was left to block and spin, parry and twist, the hits not letting up no matter how far she was backed around the balcony. It was as if her own acquired advantage had merely awakened the true skill of her opponent. Skill Ladybug was quickly realizing she couldn't match.

Hands gripping desperately on the staff, she dared to try and swing out, to do anything to catch Queen Bee off guard, but that blade simply knocked her intention back into defensiveness, Ladybug scowling as panic began to trickle in beside her working, tired muscles. It was only some inborn reaction that kept her going, something she knew would wear thin.

She had to do something; had to get away and put some space between them—if only to catch her breath. Each slamming hit jarred her lungs and jolted her heart, the sheer strength behind that blade exceeding any blows delivered previously. Queen Bee slashed and danced, each step coming to her easily, while Ladybug struggled to keep up.

There was no other option—she had to take any chance that came her way, no matter how risky.

The blade was coming down fast, Ladybug faced with two options—block it with her staff or make a run for it. Remaining engaged as she was would only lead to more of the same, while turning tail wouldn't leave her unscathed. But staying in combat, as she was, would lead to her eventual defeat. Which meant she had to act while she could.

Moving her staff aside, she slipped toward the middle banister while reaching for her remaining yoyo. Queen Bee's blade skimmed her shoulder in the same moment, shaving away part of her suit and skin as she vaulted into the air. She ignored the injury, the blood, and turned midair to cast her yoyo up through the tower.

It latched near the top, Ladybug's teeth gritting as she was yanked violently upward. But at least it was _away_.

She wasn't brave enough to look back, to take the second of distraction to do so. Pursuit was inevitable, so she put her focus on distance—on just trying to survive.

As if sensing her desperation, the staff in her hand abruptly condensed back into a yoyo, one she could throw further as she reached her anchor point. The string twisted around another support rod, the first yoyo releasing as she continued in her soaring climb. Until she was coming up on the top of the tower.

Chucking her yoyo to the side, she veered off course, shooting out beneath two crisscrossing supports. Arcing upward, she rounded up through the air until she was landing on the top deck.

And, somehow, Queen Bee was there. Perhaps Ladybug had simply been too slow, or made her intentions too clear. She didn't even have the chance to fully comprehend what was happening until the edge of that blade was sweeping toward her. She leaned back, watching as the tip sliced through her suit just below her collarbone, leaving a shallow, bleeding cut as she toppled to the ground.

Falling harshly, she reached for her yoyo, the glimmering point of that blade once more surging toward her.

A black flash bounded suddenly over the balcony, slamming into Queen Bee and sending her careening into the center support. With raised hackles and claws that were curled for attack, Chat Noir stumbled until he was standing over Ladybug, chest heaving with exertion.

Ladybug struggled to sit up, eyes flitting frantically beyond Chat's figure as two orange blurs shifted up and dropped the two Volpinas into a crouch ahead of them. They stood a moment later, straight-faced beneath the same pearly, clouded eyes that had shifted through Queen Bee.

Latched to each of their belts was a single silver staff, Chat hissing viciously in response to their dropping appearance.

He was unarmed; she was trembling on the ground as a result of her numerous injuries. There was no pain to either of them, but they were both exhausted, the way Chat hunched making that clear enough.

Yet their foes remained completely unbothered.

"Give me the miraculouses,'" the Volpinas demanded, their voices flat and unadorned—the complete opposite of what they'd been before. As if the same ghost that had seeped into Bee had made a mark on them too.

"You'll have to kill me first!" Chat yelled, tone dark and vicious. Passionate, but desperate.

"You put yourselves through such needless grief," the Volpinas continued, Queen Bee having recovered to come stand beside them. "If you'd simply given me the miraculouses when all of this had started, we wouldn't have had to take things this far. Now _give me_ your miraculouses!" Their hands were still outstretched.

"NO!" Chat shouted.

The Volpinas' eyes narrowed simultaneously. "So be it." Flashing into orange wisps, they darted forward, Chat flailing his claws dangerously as they respawned at his shoulders. They grabbed him by the arms despite his feral struggling, Ladybug reaching out in the same moment to try and do something—anything.

But they hefted him off his feet and jointly tossed him across the open deck, his suit sliding against metal as he slammed harshly back down.

Fumbling onto her knees, Ladybug tried to reach after him, to get to her feet in time to do something. But the Volpinas had him again, no amount of his kicking and lashing breaking their unforgiving grip as they pinned him flat to the ground.

The sound of fluttering wings resounded in her ears and there was a long shadow cast over her, darkening out what little light was left of the day.

Chat hissed and spat, his neck straining up against his shoulders as he searched frantically. As their eyes met, his own widening alongside the sound of thin metal swishing through the air above her.

Ladybug didn't have time to turn, to do anything, and she could see her name forming on his lips—as if a screamed warning would be enough to save her.

But it wasn't, she knew that in the split-second between them, and she couldn't bear to see the way his whole expression was shattering against the inevitable.

She closed her eyes, not even given the chance to regret.

Rather, she was thankful. Comforted, perhaps, that her last thoughts-

Would be of _him_.

It was pinprick in a vacuum of turmoil, her whole world zeroing in before being thrust open into reality.

She was smacked to the side, body defenseless against the ricocheting sound. It was like a steel rod striking a giant metal bowl, the force tossing her against the nearby banister.

Hands holding tight to the vertical rails, she kept herself forcefully in place, eyes popping wide just in time to see the way everyone else atop the balcony was sent scattering. Chat was rolled into the balcony some ways down from her, his own gaze darting around in frantic shock as the Volpinas were thrown aside as well.

But it wasn't their own condition at the violent shockwave that was drawing attention. It was Queen Bee, and the figure beneath her, that was pulling their focus.

Bee was rebounding back, arms and blade flailing as the shockwave caused by her own thrusting slash pitched her into the air. And that which she'd hit—that had slipped beneath Queen Bee's cutting intentions on Ladybug—remained still and unfazed, shielded and crouched where Ladybug her been caught only moments before.

It was as Queen Bee righted herself in the air, and the rest of them managed to catch their breaths, that the shield was lowered, the one who manned it straightening to his full height.

The Volpinas rose in unison, heaving as they each pointed a single finger in the direction of the newcomer. "Who are _you_?!" they snarled.

Head turning over his shoulder, he looked in the direction of the voices, skull masked in a layered, metal helmet that seemed to shift and scale down his neck and across his shoulders. It was colored a deep, forest green, accented in gold trimming. The thick metal armor, which appeared modern and almost electronic, stretched around his shoulders, across his upper back, and came to a thick point at the center of his chest. The whole conglomerate melded together like tiny puzzle pieces, so as he shifted, the armor shifted too. The layered plates, which were minuscule in the creases where most movement was required, grew larger across the rounds of his shoulders and where they came in at his collar.

Beneath the armor, which cut off sharply mid-chest, was a suit that appeared similar in make to all the other miraculous' users. The base color was black, a single zipper dropping down the center of his abdomen and coming to a stop just beneath the line of his hips.

Beneath his hips and across his thighs, the suit was a uniform black. Armored boots—colored in dark green with gold accents—stretched over his knees and dropped down to his soles, encasing his lowers legs and offering the same amount of mobility as the delicate pattern of plates across his shoulders.

The gloves that covered from beneath the armor to the tips of his fingers were black as well, glowing, green strips crossing his knuckles where—as one hand demonstrated—his shield attached.

The weapon—if that was what it could be called—grew out from a center hexagon, whose edges glowed with the same light green as the connectors on his knuckles. Outside the middle shape was one layer of solid polygons, which formed a sharpened circle around the glowing center. But it didn't end there. A sort of vaguely green forcefield glimmered out further, stretching at all sides and holding within it solid emerald shards that seemed to swim and exist in tandem. But they weren't stationary. Flat on their tops and edges, they shifted with the forcefield. They'd been scattered out with the extended forcefield upon barring Queen Bee's attack, only to begin filtering back toward the center guard as attention was jerked toward the Volpinas.

It was like a giant, electrically charged screen growing from the central piece.

Dropping down from the front of his helmet was a scaly green mask, one that stretched down the bridge of his nose—similarly to Chat Noir's own mask.

There was a black bracelet around his left wrist.

"I asked you a question!" the Volpinas repeated, tones harsh and unforgiving—perhaps portraying not the emotions of Volpina herself, but someone else. " _Who are you_?!"

"Damn girl, chill," the newcomer said, all the pieces of his shield finally snapping in. The emerald shavings fit together like a puzzle, forming a thick, glowing layer around the middle—as if containing the forcefield within themselves.

The Volpinas continued snarling.

"I was thinkin' of a few cool names, but I hadn't decided on one yet," he continued, reaching up to itch the back of his head only to collide with his helmet, which sort of defeated the purpose of itching in the first place. "All this pressure. Hmm. I'll go with, uh… Tortue de Fer." He nodded his own approval. "That sounds pretty legit."

"You have a miraculous!" the Volpinas accused, the abrupt discussion giving both Ladybug and Chat Noir time to find their bearings. They'd managed to stand, on guard as Queen Bee perched up on one of the central outcroppings to seemingly watch. She remained armed, however.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I've been told," Tortue de Fer—"Iron Turtle"—replied, his lax attitude only seeming to infuriate the Volpinas further.

"Where did you get it?!"

"Ya know…" He leaned his head back a bit, eyes narrowing inside his mask. "I get the feeling you're, like, the bad guy." He looked only quickly between Ladybug and Chat Noir, as if seeking validation, but didn't keep his focus on them long enough to get it. "So… I'm just gonna not tell you anything. Cuz, like, you two were being total dicks when I got up here," he pointed a thumb up at Queen Bee, including her in his analysis, "and I don't make a habit of affiliating with d-bags. Plus, I was told to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, so…" He shrugged his armored shoulders.

A strangled growl ripped from both Volpinas' throats. "Then you will hand over your miraculous with theirs!"

"Uh, that's…" Fer looked again to Ladybug and Chat Noir. "That's _not_ in the plan, right?"

Chat quickly shook his head.

Fer nodded. "That's what I thought."

In the same moment, Queen Bee straightened, her yellow silhouette seeming to glow in the faded, pink lighting of the waning dusk. Ladybug gripped her yoyo, taking a step closer to Chat as he did the same to her, while Tortue de Fer backed up in front of them, shield raised defensively.

"So, uh, no offense," Fer murmured back at them, "but you two look like shit and these chicks still look pretty fresh. Ya'll gettin' your asses kicked? Because I'm new to this whole thing and I don't know that I can take em' both, you feel me?" In other words, if Ladybug and Chat Noir were getting beat, as veterans, then he didn't stand a chance.

"Your eyes don't happen to turn white and make you super awesome, do they?" Chat muttered back, his clawed hand gripping Ladybug's arm protectively. She noted the slight tremble in his hold, supposing she was likely doing no better.

"Eh, n-no, I don't think so," Fer replied. "Why? Is that a thing I should be able to do?"

"I doubt it," Ladybug said simply. But Fer did have a point, then. Whatever it was that enhanced Queen Bee and Volpina, they didn't share in it. Which meant, despite Tortue de Fer having stepped in at the perfect time, the victory was short-lived. Ladybug knew perfectly well what it was like to be a new miraculous user. Fer would be lucky if he made it through even a few hits before something worse happened.

In fact, this was about the worst fight he could have come in on.

Queen Bee dropped back down on their level, the Volpinas stalking up as well—as if closing in on vulnerable prey. Which was, unfortunately, more accurate than any of them would prefer to admit.

But what else could they do? What else did they have up their sleeves?

With the exception of Tortue de Fer showing up when he had, they had no more advantages. Chat's weapons had been seized; Ladybug barely knew how to use her staff. They were both slumped where the stood, hardly in any position to keep fighting. Yet, they couldn't simply give up.

Would this fight really be their end?

Was that really all that was left?

"So, what- what's the plan?" Fer asked, turning his head over his shoulder to look at them.

Which granted him no reassurance. In fact, it did about the exact opposite.

Ladybug could feel it, the tingling sensation of pain—as though it were beginning to leak through whatever defenses her miraculous normally gave her. There was dried blood sticking to her shoulder, chest, and side, and her bones felt as though they would crack, were it not for some unexplainable force holding her up.

She knew Chat felt the same, his suit whole but his movements stiff—as if fending off wounds none of them could see. His grip on her shifted from her arm to her shoulder, his hold weak as he pulled her to him. As they both looked up at their new companion—not giving up, but somewhat at a loss.

Fer audibly gulped. "Well," he murmured nervously, turning back to Queen Bee and the Volpinas. "Fuck me."

The light from the sun finally seemed to have sunk, the clouds cast in dark purple shadows as the remaining pink was slowly eaten by the encroaching stars. Ladybug looked to Chat, sharing in his searching expression as she reached for her yoyo.

She did have a plan—their last resort.

"Use Cataclysm," she murmured. "Destroy the tower. I'll use Lucky Charm. We'll just… have to hope it's enough."

But she knew it wouldn't be.

He nodded, swallowing hard as his claws dug just lightly into the good shoulder of her suit. Fer was obviously listening, attention flitting between them and their approaching attackers.

"Get out of here," Chat told him. "This isn't a fight you should be a part of. They'll leave you to come for us. Hide your miraculous. When they get ours, you'll be all that's left."

"Wha- But- You guys never-"

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," Chat went on, their time about out. "I didn't know this was what it would be like."

Didn't know they'd be floundering on some new shore, a tidal wave heading in.

"Dude, but-" Fer didn't have the time to object. Queen Bee and the Volpinas were on them, blade raised and flutes ready.

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked lastly to each other. For a moment—in those slow seconds—they simply stared, Chat's grip once again tightening. He looked like he wanted to say something, and she wanted to as well, but there was no time for words. No time for anything.

It'd all be washed away soon enough.

Washed in a veil of blue.

Ladybug didn't know where they came from or how they got there. But, somehow, the shrouded figure had spun its way between them and their opponents. Draped in a silk cloak of azure blue, they twirled, loose sleeves giving way to long, thick, fluttering strips of fabric of the same make, twice as long as any of them were tall. A graceful blur, silk swirling until the waves of cloth were all Ladybug could focus on. The swift dance overtook Queen Bee and the Volpinas, forcing them back again. Until, with a snapping, final pose, the flapping came to a sudden halt.

Ladybug felt dizzy, blinking as she tried to comprehend the situation. Chat seemed to be suffering similarly, gaping as he stared at the figure.

They were completely covered from head to toe in the blue cloak, the long sleeves pooling atop the metal deck as they stood confidently between one side of the conflict and the other.

The stillness was what allowed Ladybug to focus again. To notice that, suddenly, there was only one Volpina instead of two—as if her illusion had been nullified. And it was in that moment, with a fluttering toss, that the mysterious figure threw their arms up, fabric flapping as two metal staves were pitched backward out of the blue folds.

Chat caught his retrieved weapons just in time, still completely baffled by the hooded figure before them. A figure that, slowly and decidedly, pulled one foot up to balance against their inner knee, before casting their arms up wide. Standing composed on one foot—the fabric of their sleeves beating with the sharpness of their movements—they appeared bigger, somehow. Threatening.

A threat that was clearly directed at Volpina and Queen Bee.

And just like that, the world rocked back into place. That easiness that had come with the whites of Volpina and Queen Bee's eyes was gone—evaporated—and both lingered but a moment longer before turning to flee. Volpina vanished into a puff of orange while Queen Bee dropped down out of sight, disappearing into the night.

There was silence, only the sound of heaving lungs against the breeze echoing over the tower.

The cloaked figure stood before them for a second longer, completely stationary—as if time had frozen. Ladybug could find no words; neither could Chat Noir.

But then those long, fluttering sleeves were moving, swishing all around them, and Ladybug was once again overwhelmed by the veil of blue. She stumbled into Chat, dazed and unsteady.

Before, as quickly as they'd come, the cloaked figure was gone.

Blinking, chests laboring, all three stood against the silence, the swiftness with which the confrontation had seemingly ended leaving them with leftover adrenaline and a sense of continued defensiveness. And like a slow leak from a balloon, it slowly trickled out.

"Wh- Who was that?" Tortue de Fer was the first to find words, his head turning almost too quickly over his shoulder to look at them. Too quickly, because both Ladybug and Chat Noir were having a bit of trouble finding their equilibrium—like they'd gone a little too long without air.

Chat accomplished a steady state of mind before Ladybug did, hand reaching up to rub his temple. "I don't know," he verified. "How did they even get up here?"

"What do you mean 'how did they get up here?'" Fer replied, gesturing around them. "They jumped up over the banister, fuckin' wrapped us all around, and jumped back over again."

Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows, knowing, somehow, that these were details she should have seen, but there were empty spaces in her understanding. The blue figure had been there and then been gone, and she couldn't for the life of her understand how it'd happened.

"So neither of you seriously knew who that was?" Fer asked.

"No." Ladybug shook her head, only vaguely aware of the way Chat's clawed hand still clung to her shoulder. "We've never… This is the first time any of this has happened."

"Any of this?" he asked.

"Volpina we've fought once before, but not the Bee girl," Chat explained.

"So those chicks, they weren't… they weren't just your run-of-the-mill akuma?"

"They have miraculouses, just like us," Ladybug replied. "They're working for Hawkmoth, but they're not akuma." The fuzziness had finally cleared, the chill of the evening air seeming all the colder against her worn body. She was once again aware of how exhausted she was and of how vulnerable they were atop the tower—because of how weak she knew Chat Noir was too.

"Oh…" Fer's eyebrows pulled together beneath his mask.

"We shouldn't stay here," Chat muttered a second later, as if reading her thoughts. "Can you use your restorative powers?"

"Right, yes." Ladybug nodded, reaching for her yoyo. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the slight stinging of her hurt shoulder and tossed the weapon into the air. She didn't shout the chant—her "Miraculous Ladybug"—but she spoke the words nonetheless. And was, therefore, surprised when nothing happened.

All her yoyo did was fall back into her hands.

Like the last straw that broke the camel's back, her failure to do something even so routine knocked the rest of her energy out of her. Legs shaking, she gripped her yoyo tight and put all her effort into remaining upright.

It should have worked. Even without having used Lucky Charm, it should have done something.

Why had it failed? And why had both she and Chat been so weak against Volpina and Queen Bee? What about if they attacked again?

What were they supposed to do?

"My Lady," Chat murmured, coming around to stand in front of her, one hand on her good shoulder while the other held her up above her injured side. In her ear, her earring beeped. "We need to get out of here."

"O-Okay," Fer said, quite as though he didn't know what to say.

"Go home," Chat told him. "Keep your powers hidden. We'll… We'll get in touch with you, I promise."

To his credit, Fer looked conflicted. His gaze flitted quickly between the two of them, because they were obviously injured and exhausted, but, ultimately, he did as he was told. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, before snapping his shield from his wrist. He dropped it to the deck floor, where it hovered, the emerald shards breaking and forming a sort of surfboard shape within the forcefield. He jumped up on it a moment later, giving them both one last, concerned look before he bent forward.

The shield carried him off, down the tower and into the night.

Like Queen Bee and Volpina, he too could fly. And this fact struck Ladybug like a kick to the gut, her trembling hands reaching to anchor themselves on Chat's upper arms. She felt as though she'd collapse otherwise, exhausted tears beginning to form behind her eyes.

"We're running out of time," Chat murmured softly, his own ring beeping. "Can you get down?"

"Yes, I think so," she replied, nodding. "But… what will we do?" She peered up at him, for the first time noticing the bruise that was blossoming along his jaw. Injured, both of them. They had nowhere to go in such states—they'd never had to deal with such consequences before. Which hammered home how altered the situation really was.

Volpina and Queen Bee were an entirely different kind of enemy—something so much more dangerous than what they'd faced before. So much worse than anything they'd imagined. They understood now, why Master Fu had been so uncertain. Why he'd insisted they find another teammate.

But even that didn't seem like it'd be enough.

For the first time since she'd become a superhero, Ladybug felt the weight of hopelessness, only exaggerated further by her fatigue. They'd never been beaten so badly, come so close to the end. And they both knew that, if the same thing were to happen again soon, they'd be in the same boat.

But there were no solutions obviously before them—no answers—and that left them shouldering an even more helpless burden.

All they had were more questions, and even more uncertainties than ever before.

"I don't know what we'll do," Chat whispered, swallowing hard as his nails dug almost protectively into her suit. "I don't know anything…"

A shared sentiment—one they couldn't afford to bear.

 

**Part One – Epilogue**

He'd said they could come visit whenever they wanted—that they were welcome if they ever thought they'd need his help. But this hadn't exactly been how they'd anticipated their first visit going—arms wrapped around one another as they dragged their weary feet down the darkened Parisian streets.

But Mari couldn't very well go back to Alya's as scraped up as she was, so she'd called and lied—said she was staying at the hotel with her parents' that night. They'd considered going back to the Agreste mansion, as Gabriel knew who they were anyway, but it'd been an uncomfortable solution, one that Adrien had feared would end badly—especially in their current condition.

Therefore, the mansion had become their last resort. They'd try the address Master Fu had given them first, before he'd left the hospital. It was to some other place he'd said he could live and that they could locate him at. He'd said he'd be in touch with them soon anyway, but apparently it hadn't been soon enough.

Holding up his phone, Adrien blinked heavy eyes down at the GPS. Marinette's arm was wrapped around his waist, his own on her shoulders, and he was very much aware of how heavy her head was against him. They were both so tired and the walk had been exceedingly long. They'd had no suits to make the stretch faster, no advantages to counter their current shortcomings. Tikki and Plagg weren't even awake. The two kwami had been passed out as soon as they'd flitted from the miraculouses, Mari even mentioning concerns about their health.

Yet another facet they hoped Master Fu could help with.

"I think this is it," Adrien said roughly, peering up at the old building. Around them, the streets were active, the two gathering quite a few looks from interested passerbys. Which was reasonable in their condition. Thankfully, their clothes covered most of the damage—with the exception of light blood stains on Mari and the huge, red and blue bruise stretching down Adrien's jaw and over his neck. It was dark, however, the streets lit only by shops and the red glowing lanterns of Paris' Chinatown. Cars were parked bumper to bumper in the thin streets and Chinese characters were plastered all over the buildings.

Most of the crowd around them was of Asian decent, which meant Adrien stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, it was hardly a detail he could bring himself to focus on. It was nearing eleven o'clock and they stood before a shabby, two-story building with no lights and boarded up windows.

Together, they went to the shallow nook on the right side, where the worn wood of an old door was tucked. Having put his phone back into his jean's pocket, Adrien raised his fist and slowly knocked. The small motion sent echoing pain through his whole body, the throbbing welt on his upper arm seeming all the worse.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long out in the street. The clicking of the door being hastily unlocked was like a weight being lifted from both of them, the sight of Master Fu opening the door near enough to cause what little strength they had left to give out on them.

"Come in, come in," he issued as soon as he saw them. "Quickly." He reached out to help them, taking Mari's other arm upon spotting the bloody streak that had leaked through the front of her t-shirt.

The inside of the building was open, only one side lightly furnished. It was there that Master Fu directed them. Stepping over the hardwood floors, he placed them beside a low table, around which were a plethora of floor cushions. Above, hanging from the ceiling, was a large, white paper lantern, which lit only their side of the room. The rest was in shadows. Atop the table was a tray with an old teapot and one cup, as if Master Fu had only just been in the midst of drinking.

They were stiff as they sat down, still leaning heavily on one another despite finally being off their feet.

"I saw on the news some of what happened," Master Fu said, looking them both up and down more critically. "Neither of you is seriously injured?"

"No." Marinette shook her head, reaching into her purse a second later. Delicately, she retrieved the still sleeping Plagg and Tikki, holding the kwami up toward him with a look of helpless concern etched into her features. "But I don't know about…"

"I will take care of them," Master Fu assured, bending down to retrieve one of the cushions before holding it out. Carefully, Mari laid the kwami in the center, hands hovering hesitantly before she pulled away. "They are just tired, I think," Master Fu assured. "I will do what I can for them."

"Thank you," Adrien managed to cough out, voice rough.

"Do not thank me," Master Fu said simply. "It is you two who must be thanked. I will take Tikki and Plagg upstairs, where I can look at them more closely. And I will bring you both bandages as well." With that, he turned and headed toward a door at the back, disappearing shortly after.

Breathing hard, Mari slumped, Adrien watching her and knowing he looked no better. A second later, she reached up and fingered the wound beneath her collar, hissing out a flinch a second later.

"Don't do that," Adrien murmured, taking hold of her wrist. "Just wait till Master Fu comes back."

She nodded, her hand shaking in his as she slowly lowered it back down. His own grip was weak and he honestly felt as though he could simply fall asleep and never wake up again. Volpina's flute had smacked him multiple times, especially when there'd been two on him. He feared the condition his skin was in beneath his clothes, the constant ache thrumming through him already telling quite enough.

Thankfully, it was only a few minutes before Master Fu returned. In his arms was a wooden bowl, which they could see was filled with water as he set it down. He also brought multiple towels, bandage rolls, a bar of soap, and an old glass pitcher that was filled with ice.

"I will go upstairs and put together an old remedy I know that will help," he explained. "Clean your wounds while I do, but do not wrap. I will also look after Tikki and Plagg."

"Okay." Adrien nodded, halfway to thanking the Master, but halted when the older man shook his head. Heading back out again, the two were once more alone, Adrien turning to Mari within the moment.

Like him, she looked as though she wanted to collapse on the spot, but there was no way her injuries could go untreated. And so Adrien, despite how his body screamed out against him, situated himself so he was facing her, before reaching out and tugging the cushion she was on around, so she was facing him.

She smiled just a bit at his actions, their legs knocking.

"C'mon, we need to clean your cuts," he murmured. "Those are worse than what I have."

She sighed, before ultimately giving in. Cringing, she slowly shrugged her black over-shirt down her arms, Adrien all the more displeased at the state of her white shirt. Of course, he knew her side and shoulder had been cut as well, but seeing those other areas seeping with blood only acted as a rude reminder. One that flamed what little anger he could manage in his exhaustion.

Glancing down at the shirt as well, Mari fingered the fabric, as if trying to decide what to do with it—whether to lift the sleeve to reveal her shoulder, or the hem to show her side. But they both knew doing so would only allow for the fabric to get in the way. Besides, there was no way to access her chest via such methods.

Pursing her lips, she curled her fingers around the bottom edge, as though to lift it away, but as she got it high enough to reveal her stomach, she hissed out in pain. Dropping the shirt, she reached up toward her shoulder.

"Don't," Adrien corrected, grabbing her wrist before she could slam her hand down on the injury. "I'll help you." Eyes closed, she nodded. "Slip your good arm out of the sleeve," he ordered, scooting closer as he did. Teeth still gritted, she did as he said, the strain still stretching her injured skin. But, hopefully, not quite so badly.

Taking hold of the bottom of her shirt, Adrien lifted it as she'd been doing, keeping his focus on why he was undressing her and not so much the fact that he was. She was injured; so was he. They'd just gotten done with the worst battle they'd fought yet and were plagued with questions over the whole situation. That, added to their sheer weariness, hardly allowed for things like Mari's black and white spotted bra to add up to much.

Adrien was far more preoccupied with making sure he didn't hurt her more as he tugged the shirt over her head, stretching it on one side so as not to put too much pressure on her shoulder. Once her head was out, he very carefully peeled the fabric away from her shoulder, revealing the nasty gash underneath.

The slice on her chest was pretty clean, as was the one on her side, but the mark skimming down her shoulder was worse. As if a blade had come down vertically and carved away the top layers of her skin, it was a festering gash about three centimeters long and five wide.

He'd treat that one first.

Teeth gritting with his own pain, he shrugged off his white over-shirt before taking one of the towels off the table and dipping it into the water bowl. Squeezing out only some of the liquid, he then turned his attention back to Mari's shoulder, scooting a bit to the side so as to be more directly in line with it.

Gently, he dabbed at the wound, Mari tensing as he did. He whispered an apology, but she merely shook her head. He continued on in silent concentration, eyebrows furrowed as he wiped away the excess blood, eventually revealing the rawness of the injury.

It was then, as he bent back to grab the soap, that her free hand came up and gently caressed his jaw—which caused him to twitch back a bit.

"That looks really bad," she murmured, blue eyes focused on the bruise he'd only seen in passing reflections.

"We'll worry about me after we're done with you," he replied, grinning as he lightly pushed her hand aside. She sighed in disapproval, but didn't object, and so Adrien wetted the towel again, rubbed it with soap, and returned to his ministrations. She bore it all well, until the gash was as clean as he dared get it without causing her undo stress.

Without a word, he moved lower, to the cut on her side, and she slowly lifted her arm up out of the way. Bending to the side, she allowed for what little light there was to be cast across her injured skin, Adrien once again wiping away what he could as delicately as possible. He had to lightly lay his hand above, on her bare skin—if only to keep his balance—and was thankful that his preoccupation stopped any stray thoughts about how soft her skin was.

Not that he wasn't already aware of the fact.

Once he was satisfied there, he bent back, scooting until he was once more seated directly in front of her. The final cut was just below her collar, a clean mark that stretched diagonally from one side to the other. He surveyed it a moment, finally managing a slight blush at how bare she was before him. She breathed easy, the tiny, white polka dots spotting the black fabric of her bra shifting as she did. He could see the obvious contours of her breasts, the way they dipped down beneath the fabric and rounded out along the sides.

Gulping, he flicked his gaze up to hers, uncertain where to start and whether he should ask for some kind of permission.

"It's okay," she murmured. "I can't see the cut very well, so someone has to do it. Besides," she smiled gently, "I trust you."

He nodded, fully aware of the light pinkness that still graced his cheeks as he refocused on her chest. This time, however, he kept his attention on the cut, leaning forward as he began to lightly dab the wet towel starting from the middle of the wound. Graduating upward with the angle, he cleaned toward her right collar first, able to feel the sharp bone beneath his fingertips as he did.

Once that was done, he started on the left, delicate in his handling and gritting his teeth when the softness of her skin only grew more apparent. His hand trailed over the top of her breast, pressing in against the flesh despite how he tried not to. But there wasn't much avoiding such, not in that area, and so he simply focused on what he had to do.

The cut stretched further on this side, beneath the silk strap of her bra. With his free hand, he lightly touched her shoulder, finding the strap and slipping his fingers beneath it. Slowly, he trailed them down, sliding the band from the curve of her shoulder and allowing it to loop loosely around her upper arm. This cleared the way and allowed him to clean the far side of the wound, Adrien hyper-focused on his task—if only to ignore the gentle slope of her bare shoulder leading down to her breast, and the way the cup of her bra bowed out slightly with the support removed.

He had to pull down the corner where the strap attached to get the final bit of the blood cleaned, feeling stupid at how much just a little more of her skin revealed sent his heart beating. But he was, in all technical senses, cupping the top of her breast, and he'd never done that to any girl before.

But this wasn't like _that_. He was helping her, as her partner and trusted friend, and so he pushed such thoughts from his mind. Finally finishing, he pulled the towel back, setting it aside as he touched her shoulder again. Careful not to snap the elastic, he gently slid her bra strap back into place, his hand remaining atop her shoulder a few seconds longer, before he dared glance up.

Her own attention was directed to the side, cheeks as pink as his. But her eyes were drooping closed with weariness, giving away how she was truly feeling, and Adrien internally scolded himself. Just because she'd let him do as he had, didn't mean she'd wanted him to, and he'd be better to remember such things more acutely. She was tired, just as he was, and the sooner they could get this over with, the better.

"Is there anywhere else?" he asked quietly, hand slipping away.

"No." She shook her head, turning back to him. "Your turn now, Kitty."

"I-I'm alright," he lied.

She frowned. "Don't even start with that," she said quietly. "And don't try to hide anything. I'll know."

"How?" he asked with a slight smirk.

"I just will."

He believed her.

Huffing, he reached down and slowly pulled his shirt up over his own head, cringing much like she had at the painful strain doing so caused. But he pushed through it, thankful the ache distracted him from any self-consciousness he might have felt at stripping down in front of her.

He knew of the blossoming red and blue bruise on his jaw and neck of course, where he'd gotten slammed early on with Volpina's flute. And based on the pain, he knew there was also a pretty nasty bruise on his upper arm, which was what Mari was currently looking at. She'd leaned up on her knees, Adrien turning so she could see it better.

"I don't think there's much to do for any of it," he muttered. "I'm bruised, but I don't think I'm bleeding anywhere." Which meant no open wounds to clean.

"I'm still going to check," Mari said stubbornly. "Where else were you hit?"

"My back hurts a bit," he admitted, before scooting around on his cushion so she could get a better look. The dismayed gasp that immediately left her lips was in no way reassuring. "What?"

"Oh, Adrien…" she murmured, her hand light as she laid it on his spine. With the other, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket (he could see that much over his shoulder), before holding it up and taking a picture of whatever was back there. With the injury displayed, she passed it up to him.

Adrien now understood why she'd gasped, his own lips pulling into a cringe as he looked at the photo. It was more than just a bruise. He could still recall quite clearly what had given him the giant welt. First one flute blow, then another crossing it, which had apparently broken the skin. It was swollen, the lines where impact had been most direct blossoming with a deep, dark red that was veined with pressure marks. Around it fanned a shady purple, before the whole thing bloomed into a gruesome blue. The injury in its entirety took up almost one whole side of his back, Adrien supposing it'd only grow more grotesque as it healed.

Wetting a new towel, Mari dabbed lightly at it—probably where the skin had broken, though he couldn't exactly see. He flinched a bit at the contact, his whole back echoing with throbbing pain at such direct touching.

"It's so swollen," Mari murmured. "And warm."

"That will need ice," Master Fu's voice interjected behind him, Adrien glancing back over his shoulder again. "Looks very bad."

"What about Tikki and Plagg?" he asked quickly.

"They are alright," the older man replied. "Very tired, but I have used old medicine to set their energies right. They will be better by morning." He'd crouched down beside them, a ceramic dish held in his hands. "Put this on all wounds," he directed, a sort of green paste clumped in the bowl. "It will reduce swelling and infection."

"How was it that they injured us so… badly?" Mari was still dabbing his back as she asked, Adrien thankful for it now that he'd grown used to the pressure. Her hand was cool in comparison to the heat he hadn't realized was wafting from the injury.

"They are miraculous users," Master Fu explained. "With direct contact. Their weapons break through where other things never would have. Only my previous miraculous—Wayzz—is relatively immune to such things. He has greater defenses. But even the right power could break through that as well."

"Then our weapons can break through their defenses too," Adrien determined.

"Yes."

"The thing I don't understand is," Mari started thoughtfully, finally removing the towel from Adrien's back so he could turn to face the conversation as well, "why they were so much better than us." Master Fu's eyebrows pulled together curiously. "There was this moment when we were fighting where- where something happened."

"To both of them," Adrien supported. "Their eyes turned white and their whole demeanor changed." Mari nodded in agreement. "And after that, it was like… There was no escaping them. I thought for sure we'd…"

"It was like their skill and power increased exponentially," Mari finished.

"Hmm." Master Fu stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"Actually, it was almost like…" Adrien glanced down at the floor. "Like Hawkmoth was controlling them. Like he was speaking through them."

Master Fu sighed. "I was afraid of something like that," he verified, both teenagers intent as he spoke. "Hawkmoth has the ability to influence others. I know very little of the actual process of the Butterfly miraculous, but it would not surprise me to know he orchestrated something so as to control those who bore the miraculouses he stole. And as he has influence over the mind, there is a chance he is able to access the secrets of the miraculouses through the minds of their hosts."

"What do you mean?" Mari asked.

"Each miraculous is imprinted with the skills and knowledge of those before them. Not in a conscious way, but in a reflex manner. Normally, it takes much training and practice to access such things, but if he is able to read the miraculouses as he reads the feelings of others, then perhaps he is able to bestow that knowledge on new hosts.

"If this is the case…" Master Fu took a deep breath. "Then the two of you are lucky to have escaped with your lives."

"We barely did," Mari admitted quietly. "We only survived by chance. Tortue de Fer, the new holder of the Turtle miraculous, saved my life once, and then…"

"Someone in a blue cloak," Adrien took over. "I think, whoever they are, they've been following us around for a while. But they came and, like, dispersed everything. Before disappearing."

"Blue cloak…" Master Fu muttered, continually stroking his beard. "Very intriguing."

"If what you say is true and Hawkmoth does have that kind of power, how are we supposed to compete?" Mari asked. "How are we to stand up against them at all?"

"Do not fret over such things now," Master Fu comforted, reaching out and patting her knee. "I will help you. But now you must rest. And heal."

"Speaking of that…" Mari tapped her fingers together, slumping a bit as she did. "Something else happened. I… tried to use my restorative powers earlier, but nothing happened. Do you know why that would be?"

"Mmm, yes," Master Fu said simply. "The Ladybug power is only able to restore that which has ceased to be traced with negative energy. It undos that which was not meant to be done. But only after the energy traces have gone stale. When the akuma leaves a host, this nullifies the trace, as the connection to the source is lost. But so long as the source is connected, the energy cannot be broken from reality, and therefore cannot be undone."

"So, then, anything that Queen Bee and Volpina do, until we can separate them from their miraculouses, will be impossible to fix?" Not exactly the most comforting thought.

"Not just until you get their miraculouses," Master Fu corrected. "If my assumption is right, then Hawkmoth has likely infused each miraculous with an akuma. You will have to purify them directly before any damage can be undone."

"Perfect…"

"But do not think on such things now," he repeated gently. "Now it is time for rest—for both of you. I will get you sleeping mats, pillows, and blankets." He got to his feet. "Put that ointment on all your wounds—it will help."

They nodded, watching as he left them yet again, before refocusing on each other. Taking the bowl of green medicine, Mari gently rubbed it into Adrien's back, before doing the same on his arm and jaw. Which was when he reached out to take it, but she held it out of his reach.

"Do you have any other bruises?" she asked critically, Adrien sighing. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm don't- I'm fine, Mari."

"Adrien…"

"Three for three, yeah? I'm fine. We need to put that stuff on your cuts."

She pursed her lips and all out refused to so much as give an inch. And Adrien knew he was too tired to really put up a fight, so he gave in after a few more seconds. After all, the faster he cooperated, the faster they could get that stuff on her, which was the important thing.

Reaching down, he unbuttoned his pants before beginning to tug them down. Despite how she directed her eyes upward, Mari said nothing, while Adrien was internally grateful he was the type to wear boxer briefs instead of anything smaller. Granted, they were still tighter, but at least he could retain some of his modesty.

Not that he was particularly self-conscious. He _was_ a model—he'd spent a good chunk of his life getting undressed and redressed by complete strangers.

But Mari wasn't a stranger, and, yet, that made it no easier to consider as he finally shucked his jeans off and pushed them aside. It was strange, really. He was tired and wanted to do nothing more than curl up and sleep, yet there was still a bit of him that wanted her to, what, be impressed?

With what, exactly? His underwear was dark and the shadows in the room were deep—not like she could see anything.

Maybe it was more as though he simply didn't want her to be disappointed.

"I can see it," she said once he was pant-less, her eyes having lowered to refocus on him. "There." She pointed to the underside of his thigh, where another giant, purple and blue bruise was forming around a small, red welt.

Master Fu returned in the same moment, dragging a bundle of bedding along with him. "I have only one extra bed mat," he explained, "but it's large."

"It's fine," they both said at the same time, cheeks pinking simultaneously.

Master Fu didn't comment, however, instead going about readying the mat nearby while Mari turned her attention back to Adrien. It was decided that he'd have to lie down for her to gain access to the back of his thigh, so they'd wait until Master Fu was finished. With the time in-between, Adrien applied the ointment to her cuts, before taking the bandages and helping her to wrap them. By the end of it, her side, shoulder, and chest were covered, while Master Fu had finished with his own endeavors.

And so Adrien did as he was bid and laid upon the mat, stomach down as Mari treated his thigh and Master Fu taped an ice-pack to the welt on his back. Which meant he wasn't allowed to get up again—not that he'd really wanted to. It was a struggle to stay awake at all, with his head already submerged in the pillow.

"I am upstairs," Master Fu explained as he gathered the medical supplies together. "Do not hesitate if you need anything. There is a bathroom through the back door, behind the stairs, and I will leave the ointment and bandages down here, if you need more."

"Okay," Mari replied as she sat down beside Adrien, her pink jeans standing out against the white of the comforter. "Thank you, Master Fu."

"Of course." He nodded. "Sleep well. And do not distress over school—I will take care of it."

School. Adrien hadn't even thought about that. Well, if Master Fu said he'd take care of it, then Adrien would continue not to think about it. They only had one week left anyway, before summer break—all the more reason why Mari's suspension had been absolutely ridiculous.

Master Fu was gone a moment later, Adrien listening to the way Mari breathed above him for a few moments, before he reached out and tapped her knee. She looked quickly down at him, smiling as she did, before she got to her feet again. Going to the lantern, she pulled the string to turn it off, the room going completely dark around them.

The wood floor creaked as she walked across it, the sound of muffled traffic and night voices just beyond the wall adding an odd sense of normalcy to a situation that was anything but.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness as she stepped onto the mat beside him. He realized just as she was dropping them aside that she'd slipped off her own jeans, before she carefully lay down beside him.

She didn't reach for the blanket—it was relatively hot and stuffy—and instead blinked her lashes against the darkness. He could just barely see her doing so beside him, her own head nestled in the other pillow as she stared up at the ceiling.

He reached out to her, took her hand, and she immediately turned her head to look at him.

He was easily able to fold her arm his way, until he could bring the backs of her knuckles to his lips. Closing his eyes, he simply rested her hand there, breathing her in as he did.

"Adrien…?" Her questioning voice was soft and he had the feeling she wasn't wholly expecting him to address it.

But he did anyway. "I thought I was going to lose you today," he admitted, his lips moving against the back of her hand. "I'll have to thank Nino for getting in-between."

"Don't you think I should be the one to thank him?" she asked, sounding almost devious as she turned onto her side to look at him. "It was my life he saved, after all."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Mari," he whispered, eyes still closed and drowsiness keeping him from any sort of wit that might have been instigated by her tone. "I've never been so afraid in my life."

An admission to which she didn't reply. Rather, after a few moments, she shuffled closer to him, until he could feel her soft breath on the back of his hand. Supposing the position couldn't be entirely comfortable, he shifted his head back so it was more on the edge of his pillow, dragging her hand with him. She followed the rest of the way, so they were sharing the same cushioning.

The tip of her nose just barely brushed the back of his own hand, her bare knees knocking into his legs in the darkness.

He was so tired, the mere idea of speaking sounding impossible. But the sight of Ladybug crouching there, with that blade coming so fast, was still fresh in his mind. The terror, and the relief that had followed. And maybe a bit of regret now that he was _only_ looking back.

Regret that gave him the strength to speak again, defenses low against the drowsiness that was stuffing his head.

"My Lady," he whispered, her soft "hmm" in response more than enough confirmation of her attention. "I love you."

Eyes too heavy to open, he nuzzled closer to her hand, quite content to never let it go.

He barely heard her response.

"I love you too, Kitty."

Sleep captured them both a moment later.


	11. Part Two - All These New Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE NEW TAGS! DO IT! DO IT NOW!

Marinette didn't want to get up—didn't want to _move_. Her whole body felt stiff, aching with the stresses of the day before. The time or place didn't seem to matter. All she knew for sure was that staying as she was, eyes closed, was far more preferable to any alternative. No, she wasn't covered, and she had a vague awareness of her body being exposed, but the heat nearby kept her solidly in place, nose nestled into soft, smooth warmth.

A warmth that was, above all else, familiar. And reminded her of fresh rain, woven with the remains of damp campfire wood.

Okay, well, maybe it _was_ time she got up, if she was to the point of poetically describing nearby smells. Clearly her brain was more than awake, even if her body was lagging a bit behind.

Lashes heavy, she fluttered her eyes open. Thankfully, there were no bright windows or glaring lights to pound in more pain than there already was. The room was shadowed, only an inkling of the day able to cast a soft glow through the cracks and crevices of the covered windows.

Before her, another body breathed, their silhouette shifting lightly in the darkness. Adrien, of course. There could be no other whose bare shoulder, against which her nose was nuzzled, soothed her so fully with warmth and familiarity. Her arm rested along his side, his own hanging loosely around her waist—as if to hold her as close as possible despite his inability to lay on anything but his stomach.

Because, she easily recalled, he was hurt.

Eyes finally blinking open fully, Marinette took a deep breath before using the hand tucked against her own body to push herself up. As soon as she moved, the skin of her shoulder, which was connected to the skin of her chest, pulled tight, causing her to hiss.

A swift burning dashed across her whole upper half, leaving the wounds throbbing beneath their bandages. She cringed, pausing in her motion before ultimately deciding she had no choice but to push through it. Lips pursing, she sat up, breath huffing as she took a few moments to gather herself against the pulsing ache. It was only once the pain had died to a repetitive, steady beat that she set her focus on other things.

Namely, the boy lying beside her.

He was still asleep, blonde hair askew and pooling atop the pillow. Though she could see the nasty bruise along his jaw and the one spreading beneath the long-melted icepack on his back, he appeared comfortable—calm—in his slumber.

Gaze lazy, she allowed her attention to linger, first on his face and the sharpness of his profile. Those high cheekbones and smooth jawline. Down the back of his exposed neck and back. Though he was relaxed, she could see the muscles that were strung on either side of his spine, layered beneath his tanned complexion and marred with nasty blue and purple clouds.

Down lower, to where his skin dipped beneath the line of his boxer briefs, a different sort of heat flashing through Marinette—heat that was not at all related to her wounds.

" _I love you_."

Swallowing, she forcefully tore her gaze back up, making sure he was still asleep. His words from the night before rang in her ears, echoing over and over despite how she tried to push them away. Until her heart was racing, cheeks flushing despite how she tried to push back on the feeling.

Part of her wanted to be excited, to rush forward thoughtlessly. And, yet, she held back.

What had he meant?

He'd said that he loved her, not that he was _in_ love with her. There was, to her knowledge, a very vast difference between the two notions. She loved her parents, her friends. Alya she loved. And she loved him too, romantic ideas aside. Before she'd known he was Adrien, she'd loved him. He was her friend and partner; someone who meant more to her than anyone.

And, yes, she was…

She was _in_ love with him… wasn't she?

Of course she'd always liked Adrien. But admitting to herself the sheer frankness and extent of her feelings was almost too much—especially when she didn't know what to make of his own words. Rather, her heart, beneath her bandages and cuts, formed its own ache. A stinging that rang of more than the thrill of first falling.

 _Longing_.

Looking away, Marinette grit her teeth, one hand reaching up to finger her bandage while the other remained as it had been—resting on his back.

He was so warm. And _safe_.

Safe, that was, so long as she didn't delve too deep. Or ask for too much.

Abruptly anxious and feeling stifled, Marinette forced herself to slip her hand from his person, ignoring the isolated loneliness that assaulted her a second later. Biting her bottom lip, she scooted quietly to the side, his hand falling from her waist as she stood.

Her whole body felt shaky, disjointed, inside her own skin, and she hunched a bit as she padded quietly across the hardwood floors. Toward the door against the back wall, which was cracked open. Pushing it in, she peered into the darkness and spotted the stairs Master Fu had mentioned the night before. Shivering just a bit, she entered the hall, scurrying around the steps. There, an open screen revealed the bathroom he'd spoken of.

Once inside, she found a string that was hanging from a lantern above her head. Pulling it ignited the little bathroom, Marinette lastly tugging the screen closed before she turned to the mirror.

Though she wasn't surprised by it, she wasn't pleased with her appearance either. Her skin was splotchy with stress, greasy from lack of wash, and so she solved what she could with a few splashes of water from the sink. Doing so also woke her more fully, clearing her vision of any remaining blurriness.

Reaching up to her hair, she pulled loose her clumped and uneven pigtails, slipping the red hairbands around her wrist before she began to sift her fingers through the dark locks. What she wanted, more than anything, was a shower. But the bathroom was only a half bath, so that wasn't an option. She didn't have a towel besides.

In fact, all she had was her underwear.

Lips pooching, she pulled her hair over her shoulder as she stared down at herself. It'd been easy the night before, not to be self-conscious. They'd been so exhausted, and so overwhelmed, that anything else had seemed unimportant by comparison. But now that she'd had time to sleep on everything, her thoughts were much more capable of seeing each situation with acute division.

Even if each piece she divided up made little to no sense.

She tried to tell herself that she should be focusing on the conflict from the day before—on Volpina and Queen Bee, and how thoroughly she and Chat had been beaten. Yet, her thoughts kept drifting. Perhaps because any attention paid to that which she couldn't understand was energy wasted.

Yet, she wouldn't say she understood what was going on between herself and Adrien any better. It was more than friendship—always had been—but it was still less than what could be. No, less was the wrong way to look at the situation. It was… different, what she and Adrien had. Partnership seemed distant; companions too informal. But it was _something_.

Something that left her wondering what he thought of her, as she was there and then. If the sight of her so exposed mattered to him, and, if so, how. If he stayed close because he wanted to be, or because there was something inside him—inside both of them—that required they be so.

Did that make any of it real? Had she always liked Adrien, even in the beginning, because of the miraculous? If they didn't have their powers, would any of it be the same?

Was she truly in love with him or was something telling her to be?

She didn't know. Couldn't. Rather, all she could do was consider her situation as it was, as well as her own insecurities. She wondered, as she stared at herself in the mirror, what Adrien would think of her hair being down. It was longer, she realized. It lay just past her collar now, locks curling a bit from the stress of constantly being held aloft.

Maybe he liked short hair.

Did he like how muscular she'd gotten? She wasn't buff by any means—being so wasn't exactly conducive to being Ladybug—but there was very little looseness to her. Aside from the areas where she couldn't help being so.

Did Adrien like soft girls? She wasn't soft.

She was marred and stained, and still so tired.

So, so tired.

Swallowing, she turned from the mirror, not wanting to remain in the presence of her reflection any longer. She left the bathroom, finding herself thirsty and dry-throated as she quietly made her way back into the main room.

She peered warily at Adrien as she approached, but he was still asleep. Which, really, didn't relieve her nerves any. He had to wake up eventually, after all. And she couldn't undo and redo her bandages on her own.

Trying to be quiet, she stepped back onto the bed mat, before folding down until she was sitting on her ankles. The table was at the head of where they'd slept, Marinette taking note that their clothes were gone and that their cell phones sat side by side—right next to a sheet of folded paper.

Reaching for the sheet, Marinette unfolded it, beginning to scan the written contents.

"What's it say?"

She didn't jump at the sound of his voice, but her heart did skip. Flicking her gaze his way, she saw that those familiar green eyes was staring up at her, a few blonde strands falling into his lashes as he blinked. His cheek was still smushed against the pillow, which might have made the whole scene adorable were in not for the fact that they were both practically naked.

No different than a swimsuit—she had to keep telling herself that.

"Uh, just that- that Master Fu went out to run some… necessary errands, and that he'll be back soon. He also says he took our clothes to the laundromat and that he'd bring them back with him. And that… that we should redress all our wounds."

"Yours especially," Adrien agreed.

Sighing, she folded the note again before setting it back on the table. She reached for her phone following, crossing her bare legs beneath her as she checked it. There were a few messages from Alya (okay, more than a few. Twenty-seven to be exact), most of them relating to the battle the day before. The latter ones were asking where she was, which made sense. It was almost noon on a school day.

Deciding to save responding for later, she closed out the messages and instead pulled up an internet window.

At the same time, Adrien groaned beside her, slowly pushing himself from the bed mat. He didn't stand, instead plopping back on his butt, legs stretching out before him. He yawned, cringing in what looked like pain before he rubbed his eyes.

Again, Marinette might have thought the sight cute were it not for her nerves. Not wanting to make her discomfort obvious, she focused back down on her phone. She typed with one hand, pulling her hair over her shoulder and fiddling with the strands with the other.

Adrien was watching her, she could feel it, but she didn't look up. Instead, she did her best to use her hair as a shield between them, pretending to be more focused on her phone.

"Paris' own Eiffel Tower was, once again, turned into a battleground this evening." The report she'd clicked on started, having apparently been aired the night before. "According to eyewitnesses, our local heroes—Ladybug and Chat Noir—faced off against an enemy they've fought before. An akuma known as 'Volpina.' Those who witnessed the conflict say there was another akuma as well, but it's name and origins remain unknown.

"Investigations into the Eiffel Tower following the conflict revealed damage to the interior rails of the tower, which is a consequence unheard of. What does this mean? Did Ladybug not use her miraculous' power to undo the damage? And if not, why? Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir now? And what is Paris to make of thi-"

"Enough," Adrien said quietly, though his tone was also stern. He'd reached out toward her, covering her phone with his hand. "We were there—we know what happened."

Shoulders slumping, Marinette nodded, allowing Adrien to slip her phone from her hand. He exited out of the report a second later, before setting the phone back on the table. Marinette watched it all with a sense of wariness. Not of Adrien, but of their situation.

What were they to tell the people of Paris about the damage? And how were they to deal with future damage? Suddenly, her power didn't seem quite as useful. If they couldn't get the miraculouses away from Volpina and Queen Bee, then any damage they did would remain. What if they hurt people? Or worse?

"Stop thinking about it," Adrien issued, scooting closer to her as he did. "I can see you fretting. That's not going to do any good."

"It's just…"

"We'll figure it out," he replied gently, reaching out and brushing her hair from her shoulder. Marinette glanced up at him in the same moment, thankful for his soft, reassuring smile. "Master Fu said he had more to talk to us about anyway, right? Everything'll be fine."

"How can you know for sure?" she dared to ask.

A question he couldn't very well answer. Instead, he pursed his lips, looking down at the mat as silence fell between them again. She knew it wasn't an issue of certainty. Rather, it was dependent on belief. But she'd believed the day before that they could handle anything Hawkmoth threw at them, yet look where they sat.

"C'mon," Adrien started a few moments later. "We should unwrap your cuts and treat them again."

Supposing that was as far as the subject could go, Marinette nodded. Scooting around so she was facing him, she reached up and slipped her bra straps from her shoulders, before pulling one arm free at a time. It wasn't until she was holding the cups up with her hands that she glanced at Adrien.

He'd pulled his legs up under him and was looking purposefully at the mat beneath them. When they'd had to do the same thing the night before—the wrapping—Master Fu had been present. Somehow, that had alleviated any expected awkwardness. That, and their exhaustion.

Still, they'd done it once, they could do it again. Or so Marinette told herself as she pursed her lips and set her chin high, staring across the room with pinpoint focus. She ignored the redness of her cheeks and didn't dare look down to see if Adrien was fairing any better. After a few more seconds, she registered the soft touches of Adrien's careful fingers, before he leaned in and started to unwrap her chest and shoulder. She could feel his breath on her collar and the heat of his skin as he hovered so near.

Closing her eyes, she took purposefully steady breaths and lifted her arms whenever she sensed it was necessary to do so, holding her bra up all the while.

When the bandages were fully removed, she felt only more exposed than before.

"I'll, uh, get- get the… green stuff…" Adrien muttered, Marinette cracking her eyes open just a bit, chin pressing in as she tried to get a look at the scratch across her chest. It was tight and throbbed with an echoing sting, but wasn't enflamed or swollen. In fact, it appeared to be scabbed over already, Marinette taking note that her shoulder looked much the same. None of it was pretty to look at, but it could be worse.

Whatever ointment Master Fu had put in that bowl must work wonders.

Adrien was back soon enough, Marinette feeling a bit calmer. She was probably growing accustomed to the situation.

Using the fresh towels and water Master Fu had left out, he cleaned the wounds again, before washing his hands and using two fingers to dab the paste across the cuts. Marinette wasn't watching, not until he got to her shoulder and she caught the look of sheer concentration on his face.

Far more concentration than was needed to simply wipe paste across a scab—even if it was a rather large scab.

Perhaps it was her need for a distraction, or some hope of alleviating the tension between them, but Marinette spoke. "Are you okay?" A stupid question. He was probably just as uptight as she was. It didn't matter what his words had meant the night before, they were both still underdressed and exposed and, just, personal. "You look like you're… thinking… about something."

Of course he was thinking! People were always thinking! She almost rolled her eyes at herself. Should have kept her mouth shut.

"Uh…" Adrien paused in his ministrations, gaze flicking up to her own. "Well, just, eh, n-nothing. I'm not thinking about anything." She could tell by the way his cheeks pinked that he realized—just as she did—that his response didn't make any sense. "I- I mean, I'm _thinking_ ," he said quickly. "Just, not about anything important. You know, like, um, fashion things. Uh, my job. New line. Swimwear. Makes me nervous."

"Oh, o-okay…"

"N-not that I'm not focused on you- _this_! On this!" He gestured to her shoulder. "Definitely focused on this- you- uh, just, also thinking about model stuff. At the same time…"

Right…" Well, maybe she could work this to her advantage. Make conversation and all that. Anything. "I didn't know your father designed swimwear." She was always on the up and up with Gabriel Agreste's designs, after all. But, then again, if anyone knew something she didn't, it was Adrien.

"He doesn't- ah- except- Father's in speedos- I MEAN! Father's into- he's not- I'm not thinking about Father's speedos- My father doesn't _have_ any speedos- D-doesn't wear them or design them. I'm not thinking about speedos. Or my father." He covered his face with his hands, wiping green paste above his eyebrow. "This is not working…"

Marinette had no idea what he was talking about. "Are you okay?" Maybe he'd hit his head the day before…

"Fine!" He assured, glancing back up at her. His eyes darted to her bare shoulder; to the exposed mark on her chest. Away again. His cheeks were very red and his teeth were grinding.

Marinette cocked her head in concern. "Adrien?"

"Kittens," he muttered. "Think of kittens…."

"Kittens?"

"NOT kittens!" he corrected, eyes abruptly wide as he looked at her. "Not alive kittens."

Marinette's brow scrunched in alarm.

"Not dead kittens!" he said loudly. "I'm not thinking about dead kittens! I just- sometimes things are dead- because- oh god…"

"What's happening right now…?"

"Nothing! Nothing is happening! I gotta go!"

"Go?!"

"Go!" He gestured toward the other side of the room. "Go… that way. Bathroom. Uh, just gotta go. Right now." He was on his feet in the moment, leaving Marinette gaping and confused as he walked swiftly away.

Walked in nothing but those tight-fitting, navy-blue boxer briefs. Marinette's heart skipped in her chest, the sheer magnitude of shameful thoughts enough to turn her deep scarlet. He was thin, but well-muscled (as she very well knew! She saw him in a skin-tight suit every other day!), and every bit of that perfect muscle was visible. From his calves to his thighs to-

Forcefully closing her eyes, Marinette craned her neck around, trying to think of anything but Adrien.

Adrien and that _butt_!

 _No_!

Think lower. Think thighs. That was safe.

Chat always did have _really_ nice thighs. Too bad it wasn't very obvious in those skinny jeans Adrien wore. Not that he didn't look good in jeans too.

 _NO_!

Groaning, Marinette used one hand to hold up her bra while she gripped the bridge of her nose with the other. Though she couldn't exactly help it, she felt bad thinking such things about him (at least while he was there). He was her friend, her partner, and she didn't want to taint that with dirty thoughts about his… body parts.

Every part. The whole body.

She groaned louder.

"Are you alright?" Starting, Marinette turned and looked back at the door, which had just been pushed open by Master Fu. He carried a bag in each hand, shoving the door closed with his toe behind him.

Swallowing hard, Marinette hastily pulled the straps of her bra back into place, still blushing. And feeling quite as though she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She hadn't been doing anything—with Adrien or otherwise—but the guilt still felt heavy.

"We were just… wounds and stuff. He's in the bathroom…" Her voice had dwindled to a murmur by the time Master Fu reached the table and set the bags down. Despite her obvious embarrassment, he simply smiled before he reached into one of the bags and pulled out her pants and shirts—all folded into a neat pile.

Marinette hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted her clothes back.

"Thank you," she said a little too breathlessly, holding the clothes tight as he handed them to her. Wasting no time, she grabbed the pink jeans first, slipping them on from the floor before buckling the button.

She already felt better.

"I got these also," Master Fu explained, handing her a packet of large, adhesive bandages.

Just one relief after another. She didn't need Adrien's help to put these on.

Ripping open one of the longer ones, she stuck it across her chest before grabbing one of the shorter versions and sticking it carefully over her shoulder. Not really trying to rush, but no longer wanting to be shirtless, Marinette unwrapped the last bandage from around her waist, thankful she could clean and treat her side on her own.

With the last bandage stuck in place, she grabbed her shirt before pulling it on. Just as her head popped through the hole, Adrien walked back through the corner door.

Their eyes met across the room, Marinette smoothing out the fabric of her t-shirt as Adrien looked her over. Before looking down at himself. How was it even worse, him in only his underwear and she fully dressed? Somehow, it made their situation all the more awkward, Adrien breaking eye contact as he padded back over.

Marinette watched him, aware of the way he rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor.

Those bare thighs looked even better from the front, the muscles contracting with each step he took.

No, no, no! Stop it!

"Thanks," Adrien muttered when Master Fu handed him his own clothes. He'd already removed his bandage and icepack, and so had nothing to worry about as he bent down to slip on his pants.

There was something very endearing—intimate—about watching him get dressed. The way his hips sunk as he buttoned his pants, and how his arms and abdomen contracted. A slight motion—short-lived and insignificant—and yet Marinette's heart rushed forward nonetheless.

"Now, put that on your back first," Master Fu lectured when Adrien immediately reached for his shirt, gesturing toward the green paste sitting beside Marinette's leg. Shoulders slumping, Adrien looked utterly defeated as he twisted his shirt in his hands. Still not meeting Marinette's gaze, and looking as equally guilty as she'd felt previously, he turned and plopped down in front of her.

The sight of the bruise on his back—even more smudged with blues and purples than the night before—sobered her immediately.

"There is much we need to discuss," Master Fu started as second later, sitting down at the table as Marinette rubbed ointment into the welt on Adrien's back. Not much could be done for the bruises, but she made sure to put a bandage over the broken skin. "Namely, how you two are going to continue on from here."

"Continue on?" Marinette asked, scooting up to the table as Adrien slipped his shirt over his head. He came up beside her a second later, their thighs rubbing beneath the table. Yet, despite two other sides being available for seating, neither moved. Or acknowledged the closeness.

"If you're to face off against Hawkmoth's new underlings again, then you must train."

"Train?" Adrien asked.

"There are ways to access the ingrained knowledge of your miraculouses. Normally it is a gradual learning, one that the user gains through years of use and practice. But… you two no longer have that luxury."

Finally, with all awkwardness having finally dissipated, Adrien and Marinette looked once to one another, before turning their eyes back on Master Fu.

"There is no true shortcut, but training together—in the techniques of your miraculouses—will hasten it some, and prepare you both better for physical onslaughts. You would also do good to spend as much time together as you possibly can."

Both Adrien and Marinette sighed. Didn't they spend enough time together? Not that Marinette was complaining, but just how often were they supposed to be in each other's company?

"Why do we have to be together so much?" Adrien asked. "I mean, I get the whole 'our powers grow together' thing, but… isn't there a better explanation? If we understood it better, maybe we could, like, work to speed things up ourselves." He had his hands held out on the table, as if he desperately wanted some kind of diagram to appear between them.

A schedule, maybe.

Marinette had to hold back her smile.

"I can help you with your training," Master Fu replied. "But all else I can say nothing about. It is a journey that only the two of you can partake in. We may be able to hasten your physical capabilities, but to try and speed up your personal journeys could make things worse."

"Worse?" Marinette asked.

Master Fu cast them a knowing, gentle smile. "You'll understand someday."

Adrien groaned, crossing his arms on the table before he set his chin atop them rather petulantly. But Marinette was just glad she wasn't the only one sick of the "someday you'll know" speech. At least they could be miserable together. That was what Master Fu wanted, right?

"What are we supposed to do?" Adrien asked, clearly being sarcastic. "Be together twenty-four seven?"

"If you could manage that," Master Fu said quite seriously.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, but didn't comment.

"That aside, you must also begin more intense physical training. Your school year is ending this week, correct?" They both nodded. "Good. The physical exercise you have been doing together must continue. And along with that, you must come here so I can train you in the spheres of your miraculouses."

"So, like, combat training?" Adrien asked, leaning back up again.

"Yes. I will have weapons that mimic those you use when transformed. If you can learn to wield them as civilians, it will come much, much easier to you when transformed."

"And we'll help you too!" Tikki's high-pitched voice abruptly punctured the conversation, before that red blur flitted out in front of them.

"Tikki!" Marinette exclaimed, relief sweeping through her as she held out her hands. Of course, she'd had faith in Master Fu's abilities to heal the kwami, but that hadn't meant Marinette could hold back on continued concerned. When Tikki wasn't with her, it almost seemed as though she was missing part of herself.

"I'm here too," Plagg droned, on his back as he floated lazily around and in front of Adrien. "Don't everyone celebrate at once."

"Wasn't planning on it," Adrien snarked, though he wore a broad smile as he reached out and took Plagg by the tail. Holding the kwami upside-down, they eyed each other while Tikki nuzzled into Marinette's cheek.

"You got any cheese?" Plagg asked two seconds later, little arms crossing despite how he dangled.

Adrien sighed.

"Tikki and Plagg will be able to assist," Master Fu went on, ignoring Plagg's question. "You two have formed close enough bonds with them that while you train in your civilian forms, their knowledge will still be accessible to you."

"It'll speed up your training even more," Tikki explained, buzzing up into the air as Plagg sank to the tabletop and rolled around. He didn't stop until Adrien reached out and scratched one nail along his back. "The connections we share will help guide your physical knowledge."

"So, like, how does that work though?" Adrien asked. "Will it be explained to us or…"

"It's a subconscious influence," Master Fu clarified. "Once you start training with the weapons you use when transformed, that innate learning that is possessed by Plagg and Tikki will begin to manifest in you. It is difficult to understand now, but you'll see for yourselves once we begin."

"Plagg and I will meditate while you train," Tikki offered. "And we'll put all the focus we can on you two."

"Ugh, do I have to?" Plagg groaned, seeming quite content beneath Adrien's scratching. Tikki cast him a critical look, but his green eyes were closed and so he didn't notice.

"What about, uh, Tortue de Fer?" Adrien asked.

"He should also come train. Wayzz and I will be able to teach him many things—both in weaponry and about his abilities."

"Right." Adrien nodded. "I'll let him know."

"What… What about my powers?" Marinette asked, shoulders hunching uneasily as she stared down at the table. "I can't reverse anything that happened yesterday, right? Not until we get Volpina and Queen Bee's miraculouses."

"That is correct," Master Fu verified, frowning as he did. "Not until the akuma is released from their miraculouses can you reverse the damage done yesterday. And so that pattern will continue so long as the miraculouses are tainted by the akumas."

"But… what if- what if something really bad happens?" Marinette asked quietly. "I know people have… have died before, because of the akumas. What if…" They'd seen entire buildings come crashing down, but all of it was always reversed with Ladybug's power. Not having that security blanket was… horrifying.

"So long as we get those miraculouses, then anything can be fixed," Adrien reasoned, laying a hand comfortingly on her knee beneath the table.

"That… is not entirely true," Master Fu corrected, his lips pursing as both Adrien and Marinette looked to him in confusion. "There are… inevitabilities at work here that even Tikki's power cannot always reverse. It is part of the reason why you must be so careful.

"This comes down to the essence of life and death—something much greater than any power Tikki or Plagg have. Using the two miraculouses together could give one access to… realms beyond us, but only if done so carefully and with certain approaches. And, even then, retrieving souls that have moved beyond the realm of the living is impossible."

None of what he said made any sense. Marinette knew she'd brought people back.

"You see, there is a… a filtering process to the human soul."

"Wait, so humans do have souls then?" Adrien asked. "That's for real?"

"Not in the manner you're probably imagining," Master Fu went on. "All souls are specific to the individual to whom they belong, but they are not separate in and of themselves. Souls are like puzzle pieces—each piece is separate and independent on its own, but when fit together, form something united and whole. The filtering process is… is away in which the creases of that puzzle are erased.

"When a person, an animal, a plant even, when it dies, its life force—its soul—is slowly absorbed into the… the pool of soul energy that exists outside the living realm. We humans know not where this… pool of souls exists, but there is reason to believe that it does. It's a place where all souls are born and where all souls die.

"No, that's the wrong way to put it." Master Fu shook his head. "It's a place where souls gather when their life on earth is over, and where new souls—new pieces—are created. It's an ever shifting, ever cycling phenomena. And an inevitability for any lone soul that 'passes on.' It is not the pool of souls, however, that you need concern yourself with." He was looking directly at Marinette now. "Rather, it is the process by which souls are returned to the pool.

"You see, when a living thing dies, it takes time for their life-force to filter through the cracks of our realm into the 'other.' It's a dissolving process. Souls are enclosed in physical bodies and those bodies are not porous. It is only when the anchor that holds the life force to the physical is severed, when death occurs, that the soul is freed. From there, it takes some time for that soul to dissolve from one realm to another. Depending on the soul, it can take anywhere from a few days to years. But, ultimately, it _will_ happen.

"And this is why your powers can become ineffective. Once a soul is absorbed fully, it cannot be returned to the physical body. It will have merged with the pool and that individual life force will no longer exist."

Marinette gulped, trying to take in all of what he said. It wasn't that she was somehow shocked over the knowledge Master Fu was relaying—she'd had her existential crisis the day a small fairy had shown up and given her magical powers—but it did pose more questions. Some of which she was almost afraid to ask. But she knew she had to.

"If that's true," she said quietly, "then… then how will I bring them back?" That was, potential victims that had to wait until she and Adrien got the stolen miraculouses back.

"You can't," Master Fu said simply.

"What?" Adrien curled his lip.

"All souls vary in make-up and 'weight,' and so it takes some longer to be absorbed, but there's no guarantee that, if it takes time for you to be able to use your powers," Ladybug's powers, "that any life-force will still be singular and within our realm. It's safe when your purifying an akuma and using your powers within those moments, but wait too long…

"Once a soul is absorbed, it can't be put back in the physical body—that life force no longer exists as a singular entity. It's as though a cup of water were poured into an ocean and you wanted to try and gather back the exact molecules that were mixed. It's simply incomprehensible.

"And without life force—a 'soul'—the physical body cannot live."

"So, what you're saying is… is that if there are victims and we can't get Volpina and Queen Bee's miraculouses within those moments, within that day, those victims are… actually gone?"

"Yes."

It was a weight that Marinette didn't quite know how to carry. Suddenly, being a superhero wasn't a matter of saving the day and looking good for the cameras. She wouldn't consider the day before a victory and, so, for the first time since becoming superheroes, she and Chat Noir had lost. There were now forces that could hurt them—destroy them. Forces that could also destroy others. And, maybe, there'd be nothing she could do about it.

She hadn't realized how much of a comfort it'd been, knowing she could simply reverse any and all damage. But now… now that might not be an option. Now, in the most crucial capacity—beyond injuries, ruined property, broken landmarks—she could very well be useless.

It mattered, from then on, where they fought and what their enemies did. It wasn't just their miraculouses they had to protect anymore, or people from the fears and horrors of witnessing and being a part of conflict.

In the course of only a few days, everything had changed.

Now, she and Adrien had to change with it.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Master Fu said gently. "And I know it's been a very traumatic few days for both of you. You need time to heal—both physically and emotionally." He took a deep breath. "Using his abilities drains him, as it does with any miraculous user, and so I don't think Hawkmoth will act so… flippantly with Volpina and Queen Bee in the future—I'm assuming controlling a miraculous user takes far more of his energy than a typical akuma. They may act on their own, of course, but they likely require his assistance to access the knowledge of their miraculouses. I cannot make any guarantees, but I think you'll be alright resting a few days. We must begin your training, as well as Tortue de Fer's, soon, however. Hawkmoth will act again, and so we must be as prepared as possible."

"So this… training," Adrien started, "it'll speed up everything, right? Like how us spending time together will?"

"Not exactly," Master Fu replied, looking sympathetic when Adrien's whole body slumped. "The physical attributes of the miraculouses are teachable, but other abilities develop in different ways. And those are abilities that I cannot… explain to you. I've seen some in practice, but I could not enlighten on exactly what they were or how they came about."

"You've seen- Wait." Adrien held up a hand. "You've seen another Ladybug and Chat Noir in action?"

"I have." He nodded. "But it would do you no good to know of them. The lives of previous miraculous users are to remain confidential."

"Naturally…" Adrien muttered.

"I am sorry," he went on. "But it is not my place to expand on such things. Especially when it comes to the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. Even if I were to describe to you abilities I've witnessed, I could not explain in any depth. And such abilities would only haunt what you do know—distract you with 'what if' instead of what can be. It is better to be yourselves and learn at your own pace, to discover together, than wish for things that you do not know how to reach. Aiming for the moon is advantageous, but we must learn how to get there before that dream can become a reality."

Nice words, sure, but not the guarantee Marinette was hoping for. Or, rather, it wasn't the guarantee she was accustomed to.

"There's something else," Adrien pushed on, Marinette thankful he was taking the initiative. She still felt somewhat shocked about the limitations of her powers. But, of course, when she was down, he always rose up in her stead. "Yesterday, at the end of the fight, there was someone else. A figure cloaked in blue. They seemed to have powers of some kind, but…"

Master Fu stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I will have to think on it some more," he ultimately decided, before setting his focus on them entirely. "In the meantime, you two should eat. And rest before you go home. We have talked enough for today."

And, just like that, the conversation came to a close.

Perhaps, though—when considering all they'd learned—it was for the best. If only to allow enough time for all their newfound knowledge to sink in.

**oOo**

"Are you seriously just standing here, watching him?"

Chat snapped his head around, just as she was touching down on the ledge beside him. And it wasn't for any questionable reason that he looked her up and down (or so he told himself). Grinning, he cocked an eyebrow, pulling his hands behind his back as he leaned toward her.

"Those are some nice boots your wearing," he smarmed as she looked critically around the scene, just as on guard as he was—even if his playful attitude would imply different. In front of them, shield raised defensively, Tortue de Fer was tossed haphazardly four roofs across, the Conductor scowling as she swung her huge baton completely through the blow.

"Oh, these old things?" Ladybug asked, glancing down at them only quickly. "Just had them lying around."

"I bet you did," Chat agreed, once again glancing down at the new additions. They were tight—sleek, like the rest of her suit, and black from her mid-thigh down, covering what had once been a canvas of red with black spots. The toes of the boots—still as thin and delicately shaped as her red ones had been—were silver-tipped. Much like his own boots, only without the dividing lines meant to symbolize cat paws.

Pulling his clawed finger up, Chat tapped his chin. "They remind me of someone else's boots, if I'm being totally honest."

"Do they?" she asked, finally putting her focus on him. "I can't think of who." It was then that she made a point of looking him up and down as well, cocking a single eyebrow as she did.

Tortue de Fer was yelling some rather crude profanities nearby, which didn't seem to faze the Conductor in the least.

"I might be able to jog your memory," Chat replied, standing up straight as he set his fists confidently on his hips. His suit, too, had changed upon transformation. The cuffs around his ankles and wrists were gone, and his boots had adopted a sleeker, less bulbous design. The toes remained metal with the defining lines, but more akin in shape to Ladybug's own.

The soles were still red, but matched quite nicely with the thick stripe of red that now glossed around his chest and back. It bent in from his shoulders, forming only a slight "V" in the center of his chest, just below his bell. From his shoulders around his back, it came together again over his spine, a circle with five black spots—very similar to Ladybug's yoyo—outlined between his shoulder blades (or so a quick look in a few windows had told him).

"Hmm, I dunno," she said thoughtfully, their gazes meeting once again. "I simply can't recall any similarities." Shrugging, she turned away, walking a few steps down the ledge.

Chat watched her of course, a surge of affection bursting through him when he caught the black stamp between her own shoulder blades. Not just her regular spots, but, instead, the outline of a paw print. He almost reached forward, to lay his hand over the black print, but ultimately held himself back.

Nerves were what got in the way. He knew she wouldn't care—they'd touched each other far more intimately than that—but he'd been deprived of such things lately and so was paranoid about coming on too strong.

It'd been almost a week since their last altercation—the one that hand landed them with so many cuts and bruises. And so it'd been that long since Chat had had any "personal closeness" with Ladybug (he had to come up with some kind of label for it). Due to the fire at Master Fu's, she'd been staying with Alya, which left little to no time for them to be together outside of school—no matter what Master Fu had advised. They'd hung out some _at_ school, and some after with Alya and Nino, but that never lasted long. Which left Chat feeling quite anxious.

Not only did he miss her just, generally, but he hadn't had the opportunity (or the guts) to ask about the last night they'd been together. He wasn't even sure if she remembered the words they'd exchanged, as she hadn't brought it up either. They'd both been so tired. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't. Which would make bringing it up far more awkward. But, best case scenario and she did remember, she still hadn't mentioned it. Not through text or otherwise.

Which only made it all the more confusing. Naturally, he'd be so exhausted that he'd finally get up the guts to admit his feelings only to have her misinterpret them. Or, worse, know exactly what he'd meant and ignore it on purpose.

What if she'd only said the same thing in a platonic manner? After all, she was friends with everyone—maybe she said that kind of stuff all the time. Or what if she'd just assumed that was how he'd meant it? Which would explain not bringing it up.

Really, the smart thing to do would be to ask her, but that was a lot more daunting to consider when he wasn't being haunted by a near-death experience.

And, clearly, they were making some kind of progress—their uniforms were different. So that probably wasn't something he should mess with.

At least her family had finally moved back into the bakery the day before. Now it was just a matter of figuring out where they—he and Ladybug—stood, and whether he was going to be allowed the same indulgences he'd gotten those few days before their fight, and the fire, and their last battle.

"I don't see them anywhere." Her voice cut through his thoughts, Chat watching as she turned once again to survey the scene. "Seems like it's just a regular akuma."

"Uh, yeah, that's what I was thinking too," he agreed, pulling his focus back to the matter at hand. "If they were going to show up, I would have thought they'd done so by now." Not like he and Ladybug were hiding.

"I wonder why…"

"Master Fu did say it might be more draining for Hawkmoth to deal with them."

"I suppose. But, even so…"

There were so many unexplained variables about their new enemies. And the lack of appearance, really, made Chat more nervous than if both Volpina and Queen Bee had shown up only a _day_ later. No, he and Ladybug were nowhere near ready to deal with them, and so he should be thankful for the quiet, but he knew another confrontation was inevitable. The sooner the better might sound preferable, but it wasn't, which left them caught in a sort of waiting limbo, never knowing when they'd be struck.

Plus, there was that blue-cloaked figure to consider…

"What. The. FUCK?!" Turning, both Ladybug and Chat dropped their attention to Tortue de Fer, who had jumped down behind them. He was breathing hard and wearing a rather disgruntled look on his face.

"What's up?" Chat dared to ask.

"'What's _up_?'" Fer rebuked, seething beneath his mask. "How about the fact that while I was out there _fighting_ , you two were sitting up here having tea and crumpets or some dumb shit!"

"We weren't having tea," Chat said, looking curiously Ladybug. "Did you bring tea?"

"I didn't think to," she said.

"Seriously?!" Fer shouted. "The only reason that akuma isn't blasting us with sound waves is because I tricked it! While you two were up here _chatting_!"

"Now, now, cool it, Donatello," Chat issued. "We were just discussing strategy. And, you know, evaluating your performance."

"My performance?" Fer asked flatly.

"Yeah, trying to decide if we really want you on the team or not." Chat nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Ladybug sighed beside him, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did.

"Um, no offense, Kitten," Fer replied, not the least bit fazed by them, "but I'm pretty sure _I_ was the one that saved your asses the other day. You know, when you were both getting them sufficiently kicked? Don't get all high and mighty when you and Grub clearly need my help."

" _Grub_?!" Ladybug exclaimed.

"Hey, that's _Mister_ Kitten to you," Chat corrected. "Or, at the very least, Sir Pussy." Waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Ladybug, he made sure to flex his arms—anything to improve his chances.

"I can't believe I let you pick him," she droned, shoulders slumping. "Why is this my life?"

"I've been asking myself that for, oh, the last _twenty damn minutes_!" Fer hissed out.

"Okay, okay, fine, we'll help you," Chat decided. "Seeing as you asked _so_ nicely. It's fine. Everyone struggles the first time."

Fer frowned. "I hate you already."

"Whaaat?" Chat came up beside the well-armored hero, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "I'm adorable though. And so friendly. Plus, you know, I didn't have to pick you, Leonardo."

"Speaking of that," Fer said, while shaking Chat off in the same moment. "Why do you get to know my identity, but I don't get to know yours?"

"Details, details," Chat replied, waving him off. "I thought we were going to get this akuma. Why're you trying to distract us? That's points marked off your evaluation, young man. We're serious business here."

" _What?!_ "

"Just ignore him, Fer," Ladybug interjected. "That's what I do."

"Such cruelty," Chat claimed, slapping his hand to his chest as he stumbled back dramatically.

"It wouldn't be necessary if you'd quit hazing the newbie and make yourself useful."

"I'm useful!" Chat claimed, pouting. "Here, look, I have a plan."

"Oh really?" Ladybug asked, both she and Fer giving him the driest expressions he'd ever seen. Such doubt. Honestly, he should have picked someone who idolized Chat Noir, not Nino. A fan would have respected him. _And_ thought he was funny (because he was _hilarious_. Such humor, wasted).

"Look, here's how we're going to do this," he started, all of them finally leaning their heads together. "The great thing about having you here," he gestured a thumb to Fer, "is that now we have a more balanced party."

"Party?" Ladybug questioned.

"Sure!" Chat nodded as if it were totally obvious. "We have a tank now!"

"Oh my god…" Ladybug rubbed both her temples this time.

"Seriously? That's your plan?" Fer asked. "Video game mechanics?"

"Well, it's never failed me before," Chat said haughtily, honestly offended. "See, you're the tank, I'm DPS—like a rogue or something—and, uh…" He narrowed his eyes as Ladybug. "You're like a shaman or something."

"Just stop talking," Ladybug commanded. "I'm _clearly_ a paladin."

Chat shrugged. "That works too."

"How are you two not dead yet?" Fer asked seriously.

"I think I can arrange that!"

All three of them whipping their heads up, they vaulted back just as a heavy sound bubble came whistling off that giant baton and exploded against the rooftop. Shingles—that had only moments before been under their feet—went flying, Chat back-flipping and landing in a crouch atop a nearby chimney.

Scowling, he quickly took in the scene. Ladybug was perched on a ledge across the street to the right and Tortue de Fer was suspended in the air on his shield to the left. The Conductor was below them, having landed in the middle of her blast zone.

She was a tall women, wearing a decorated red tailcoat accented by a giant, white bowtie. A pleated, black skirt sat beneath, her boots matching and reaching just below her knees, accented with white buttons.

Her hair was white and tied up in a high bun with coiled red ribbons fluttering out behind.

She was scowling, lips coated in deep scarlet as she peered back and forth between them.

Chat knew how this would normally go—he'd be the distraction while Ladybug got the akumatized object. And seeing as that was a tried and true strategy, he figured that was what he'd go with. How Tortue de Fer would fit into that, he wasn't sure yet, but if there was anything he knew about dealing with akumas, it was that waiting around most likely wouldn't work in their favor.

Grabbing one of his staves from his hip, he extended it before coiling his muscles and bounding forward. Yelling out in order to grab the akuma's attention, he spun his staff and aimed to come down hard from above, the akuma spinning around to face him.

With a flick of her baton, a glowing bubble of sound came flying his way, Chat striking it with his staff and, therefore, becoming victim to the blast that followed. It exploded all around him, the harsh waves of sound throwing him backward and leaving his head spinning.

He couldn't hear anything.

Banging hard into the chimney from which he'd originally leapt, he fell to the roof below, barely holding onto his staff as his vision wavered with dizziness. He knew the feeling wouldn't last, not with his suit, but the recovery wasn't fast enough. He could see the akuma stalking toward him, baton at the ready.

Until a thin, yet strong red rope with a hook on the end came flying from behind. It latched expertly to the back of the akuma's jacket, holding securely. Behind, with one swift swing, Ladybug tossed the giant, black-spotted anchor in her hand over the side of the roof, the rope's slack quickly going taut before the akuma was jerked back.

Arms flailing, yet still holding tight to her baton, she went bowling over the edge, no doubt landing on the ground with a harsh thump. Chat, however, couldn't hear as much. His vision was cleared, but his ears were still ringing.

Ladybug was beside him, holding out a hand to help him up. Her lips were moving, so he was easily able to deduce that she was speaking to him.

"What?!" he yelled as she hefted him to his feet, Ladybug flinching away from him. "I can't hear you!" He twitched his cat ears, but it did little good.

Ladybug rolled her eyes, attempting to say no more as she jogged to the edge of the roof and jumped down. Chat followed, Tortue de Fer already on the ground with his shield raised. They came up on either side of him, the akuma having gotten to her feet some ten meters off. She violently yanked the hook from her jacket, scowling at them as she did.

They were fighting in the street now, reporters having long since gathered to the scene. Some civilians fled, while others only kept as much distance as they thought they needed to be safe.

That was the kind of faith everyday Parisians had in their heroes.

"I will not be drowned out by anyone!" the Conductor screamed, Chat registering her voice as though it were muffled in water. But at least his hearing _was_ coming back, even if it was slower than he'd prefer. "Hand over your miraculouses so I can let Paris hear my melodies forever!"

"Just the same old song and dance as every other akuma!" Chat yelled, smirking as he did. "Why don't you march to the beat of your own drum, eh?"

He didn't care that both Fer and Ladybug sighed beside him.

"Be quiet and listen well!" the Conductor replied, raising her baton in the same moment. Stiffening, Fer sent the glassy green shards of his shield wider, the aura spreading out as he shifted forward.

That baton let loose a barrage of sound bubbles, all of them whipping toward the three heroes as though they were rocks being hurtled their way.

Lurching forward, Fer kept himself safely behind his shield, setting his legs into a sprint as he collided head on with the bubbles. But with his extra defenses and added momentum, his own density overcame the force of the blasts, the sound bubbles going off as soon as they touched the force-field given off by his shield. And so he dashed forward into a fray of dangerous sound waves, Chat barely taking note of the plan in time to jump in on it himself.

Staying safely behind Fer, he ran after, splitting is staff into nunchackus as he did.

Gaining speed and force, Fer faced the blasts without hesitation, Chat just barely making out the shock on the akuma's face as they closed in.

"Cowabunga, bitches!" Fer yelled just as his shield was ramming into the akuma. Taking that as his cue, Chat easily jumped up into the air. Landing on Fer's armored shoulders for only a moment, he pushed himself off once again, front-flipping as the akuma was tossed off her feet by the force of the shield.

Nunchackus out, Chat twisted the chain around the baton as he soared over the Conductor. Holding tight, he yanked it from her hand as he vaulted by, landing deftly on his feet before he whipped back around.

The akuma was lying on the ground, Fer was still holding up his shield defensively, and Ladybug was posed and ready behind. Taking the baton, Chat brought his arm back and pushed all his strength into the throw.

"No encore for you!" he yelled, the baton flying over the akuma, over Fer, and headed exactly where it was meant to go.

Ladybug caught it with ease, grinning as she then broke the baton over her knee.

Within the moment, the pesky butterfly was purified and those trademark, sparkling Ladybugs were let loose on the city.

Chat hoped it helped. He knew that, ever since they'd spoken with Master Fu, Ladybug had been uneasy. Of course he didn't blame her. He was nervous too, knowing the potential consequences if they weren't careful—if they didn't properly do their jobs. But this was easy. This was familiar. And maybe it'd help restore some of Ladybug's confidence. His own too, for that matter.

As the damage to the city was restored, and the akuma victim reverted back to normal, the crowd gathered, closing in and cheering as the three heroes stood side by side (by side). The reporters came flocking in—as they always did when akuma fighting left them on the ground—and were already bombarding the trio with questions.

There was no way they could answer them all, and so it came down to addressing what was important.

"Who are you?!" one of the reporters shouted, a mic shoved up in Fer's general direction. "Are you a new superhero?!"

"This is Tortue de Fer," Chat introduced, bowing just a bit as he gestured to Fer. "He's our new teammate and fellow hero." Though it hadn't been praise in the most direct sense, Chat could tell by the way Fer's face lit up that he was thrilled at being given the same title as he and Ladybug, a huge grin cracking across his face as the reporters only got louder following the announcement.

Ladybug giggled from where she stood on Fer's other side, Chat's hearing having returned fully enough that he picked up on the sound almost habitually. He knew he was smiling too, the high that came with being successful pushing back some of the initial unease caused by their last confrontation.

Numerous questions were thrown Fer's way, which he answered with more gusto and stage presence than Ladybug or Chat ever did. Until he was standing confidently, hands on his hips, and taking the attention like a pro.

But, then again, he was a DJ in his spare time. If any of them could deal with such attention, it'd be him. Not that Chat couldn't, but, rather, he preferred not to.

"Does this mean that you're a miraculous user too?" a familiar voice questioned, all of their heads snapping to the right as Alya struggled to get her phone, and her body, through the crowd. She eventually stumbled to the front, appearing winded as Fer quickly came forward and caught her by the arm to steady her. She probably wouldn't have fallen, but Chat knew better than to comment. Instead, he eyed Ladybug knowingly, the two hanging back a bit.

"I am, in fact, a miraculous user," Fer confirmed, his hand lingering a little too long on Alya's arm before he pulled back. Alya, on the other hand, appeared momentarily struck as she looked up at him, that Fer had dared to give her his full attention, let alone touch her, apparently more than she could handle.

If she'd had any further questions, they were gone from her immediate thoughts long enough for someone else to interject.

"Ladybug, Chat Noir, what do you have to say for the damage left on the Eiffel Tower following your last encounter?" The man held the mic out to them, the rest of the crowd turning their focus from Fer in order to listen.

Ladybug and Chat Noir shared a look, initially unsure how to respond to the query. Their silence, though it was only seconds, was enough time for another reporter to jump in.

"Why was one of the akumas you fought from last week one you'd fought before? Was it the same person?"

What should they say? Chat didn't know.

"What was the identity of the other akuma?"

"Why were there two at the same time?"

"Why are your outfits different?"

"Do we have reason to fear other previous akumas returning, just as Stoneheart did?"

"What exactly happened that night?"

Chat and Ladybug shared another look, Fer's attention on them as well. He was just about as out of the loop as the public. But it was a delicate situation, and only so much should be shared. Besides, Ladybug was running out of time.

But Chat could tell by the way her blue eyes hardened that she'd come to a decision. And, above all others, he trusted her judgment.

Taking a step forward, Ladybug entered the spotlight.

"The two villains from yesterday weren't akuma," she said straight, the crowd having fallen silent as mics and cameras were thrust her way. "They were miraculous users, just like us and just like Hawkmoth." This caused the reporters to gasp, the silence becoming grave. "They're not on our side and they're very, very dangerous. Stay away from them if you see them, and stay away from any confrontation we may have with them." Ladybug's eyes fell specifically to Alya. "Even reporters who pride themselves on going where no one else will, stay back.

"You're liable to be killed if you don't."

A warning the rang heavy over them all.

"But what about… what about your powers?" a young woman dared to ask, snapping Ladybug's attention her way again.

"Just stay back," Ladybug repeated. "For your sake."

Her earrings were beeping and so she was soon taking off, ignoring the assault of questions that came barreling their way once the shock of her statements had worn away. Chat didn't stick around much longer either, giving Fer a cautionary look as he started to step back. Their new companion nodded, soon lifting off on his shield and moving into the distance while Chat scampered over the roofs and down into a familiar alley.

There, he removed his transformation, Plagg ducking into his shirt as he pulled out his phone. Making sure no one was around, he stepped back out into the street, deciding to wait a few minutes before he texted Nino. Instead, he headed in the direction of the school, since that was where they'd all split up initially. Nino's excuse hadn't been great; neither had Adrien's. Marinette had had the best excuse—just deciding to head home instead of getting caught in the potential attack. And, of course, Alya had wanted to be right in the middle of it.

Sometimes she really made Adrien nervous.

Pursing his lips, he reached up and lightly fingered the bruise along his jaw. It was healing pretty well, but he still had to lather on makeup to keep it covered. Based on the feel, the makeup was still holding. He just hoped it looked convincing.

Not that it mattered. He'd be at Mari's soon anyway.

Pulling out his phone as he came upon the school, he slid up his conversation with Nino.

_Adrien - Hey, we still hanging out?_

The reply came almost instantaneously.

_**Nino – Yeah! I'm on my way back to the school. Sorry I had to duck out like that. Totes forgot my mom needed those eggs.** _

Adrien rolled his eyes, before going to his chat window with Mari.

_Adrien – You ready?_

She was quick to reply too.

**Marinette – Yup :) I got it done! So you should be happy.**

Grinning, Adrien typed excitedly.

_Adrien – Really?! I thought you said you weren't going to be able to do it at Alya's._

**Marinette – I managed ;) Don't you worry, Kitty. You can give him a proper welcome**.

He almost typed "I love you!" but caught himself before he could. Why had it seemed the right thing to say?

He'd better be careful in the future.

_Adrien – You're the best!_

**Marinette – Tell me something I don't know ;)**

_Adrien – You're also incredibly talented? Smart? Beautiful?_

**Marinette – Oh, do go on ;b**

"Adrien!" He wasn't able to type another response, forced to pocket his phone as Nino jogged around the corner, waving to him. Returning the gesture shortly, Adrien met him by the stairs, Nino huffing as he finally came to a stop.

He'd better find more convenient places to detransform. Maybe Adrien would have to show him all the best spots.

"Sorry!" Nino huffed. "Eggs, store, crowded, line."

"Uh huh. Well, anyway, time to go. Mari won't wait all afternoon."

"Marinette?" Nino questioned dumbly, finally having caught his breath as they started their walk toward the street. "I thought we were hanging out at your place?"

"Nope, I lied. We're going to Mari's."

"Wha-"

"Just c'mon!" Adrien egged, dropping his arm around Nino's shoulders. "You'll understand when we get there."

"Understand what?"

But the walk across the street wasn't long enough to necessitate further explanation. Bell ringing on the door, they headed in, Adrien cautious because, one, he still didn't know how Tom felt about him _exactly_ , and, two, the bakery wasn't technically open again yet.

Thankfully, it was Sabine who came out of the back, so Adrien didn't have to endure any suspicious glaring.

"Hello, boys," she greeted, wiping her hands on her apron as she did.

"Hey, Sabine," Adrien replied, forcefully reminding himself that she did _not_ want to be called Mrs. Cheng. "Sorry to burst in. I know you and Tom are super busy."

"Nonsense," Sabine assured as they approached the counter. "You're always welcome here, Adrien," she went on, reaching out and laying a hand gently atop his arm for a few moments, before she turned her attention to Nino. "And any other friends of Marinette's too."

"Is she here?" Adrien asked.

"She's upstairs, I think," Sabine verified. "You can head up there if you want."

Adrien smiled. "Thanks!" With a somewhat subdued wave from Nino, they went directly to the door at the back, only speaking once it was securely closed behind them.

"Dude, how often are you here?" Nino asked as they climbed the stairs. "Fricken' Marinette's mom acts like she's known you forever."

"I told you we run together in the mornings," Adrien explained, looking over his shoulder at his friend. "They see me all the time." And, yet, Nino didn't look convinced.

As they pushed their way through the second-level door, Adrien glanced quickly around, but didn't find Tom anywhere in sight. Which basically meant he could throw formality to the wind. Making his way in without a second thought, he ended up at the railing along the staircase leading up to Marinette's room.

Nino remained at the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocked a skeptical brow in Adrien's direction.

"What?"

"Not even going to announce yourself or anything?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm here all the time," Adrien defended.

"Why do I feel like you're hiding something?"

Adrien sighed. "Just _come on_! You'll understand in a minute, I promise."

Huffing, Nino remained as he was for only a second longer, before ultimately dragging his feet to the stairs. Hopping up ahead, Adrien ignored how his heart skittered at the thought of seeing Mari, instead setting his focus on "the plan."

He only knocked twice, before lifting the door and walking up. Mari swiveled in her chair as he entered, her lips pulling instantly into a smile upon their eyes meeting, which left Adrien both breathless and wearing a stupid grin of his own.

She really was beautiful…

"Hi guys!" she announced, once Nino had stepped up as well. "I'm glad you made it." What with the akuma interrupting things. But they'd just finished their last day of school and both he—Adrien—and Mari had decided it was time. Especially if they were going to start training with Master Fu.

"Hey…" Nino replied, eyebrows pulling together as he glanced curiously around the room. "You really like pink, huh?"

"Why do people always say that like it's a bad thing…?" she muttered, pouting.

"Oh, dude, I definitely didn't mean it that way," Nino added, raising his hands defensively. "Just making an observation, I swear."

"She does like pink," Adrien replied. "You're not wrong."

"It's a very flattering color," Mari mumbled.

"No one's criticizing," Nino added. "Pink's cool. I wore a pink shirt once."

Adrien rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Here, sit down." He pointed to the couch, grabbing Nino's arm a second later and forcing him when he didn't immediately do as directed. "Now, like I said, you'll know soon why I brought you here. But you need to close your eyes first."

"Close my eyes?" Nino asked. "Come on, man, you know I hate surprises. What's this about?"

"Just _do it_!" Adrien commanded sternly. "And no peeking. You peek and I'll never have the cook order that specialty ice-cream from America ever again."

This did procure a glare. "Dude, that's low."

"Just close your eyes, Nino."

" _Fine_."

Quite as though it were the greatest of inconveniences, Nino slumped, closed his eyes, and slapped his hand over them for good measure. Trusting that Nino wouldn't be a jerk and ruin it, Adrien pranced over to Mari, fully aware that he was fidgeting like an excited puppy.

She didn't say anything, for surely Nino would have heard, and instead rose from her seat and went to the pile of clothes covering one side of her work station. It was from this pile that she handed Adrien his Ladybug onesie, which he hastily slipped on while she—with far less enthusiasm—did the same with her Chat Noir piece.

Once they were appropriately dressed, she sighed and grabbed the final garment, before handing it to Adrien.

"You do it," she said simply, before going back to her chair and plopping down. She was doing a fair job of pretending she wasn't nervous, but he could tell by the way she fiddled with her onesie and rubbed at the gold bell attached to the zipper that she was.

"Is something gonna happen or…?" Nino asked, still holding his hand over his eyes.

"Yes!" Adrien replied, bounding back across the room in the same moment. Glancing only one last time at Mari, he then set his focus on Nino and the piece of clothing that unfolded from his hands.

He and Mari had discussed it—what would be best for Nino. Of course, the whole thing had been Adrien's brilliant idea. Kind of a way of welcoming Nino into the group—like a secret club. Sure, a little childish, but Adrien figured they were allowed that once in a while, seeing as they were putting their necks on the line for the rest of Paris a majority of the time.

Since they'd only fought with Tortue de Fer once (excluding that very day), there weren't a ton of details to the garment. But, as Mari had said, there wasn't really supposed to be. Instead, she'd focused more on color, making sure the shoulders and hood mimicked Fer's armor, as well as the lower legs. The rest of it was black, Mari then having used yellow to add creases and details to the armored bits. The zipper was vibrant green, matching the cuffs on both the wrists and ankles.

Considering she'd only had a week to design and create, the whole thing was impressive. Or so Adrien thought. He'd have to figure out a way to thank her, seeing as she'd basically done the outfit on _his_ request.

"Alright," Adrien started. "You can open your eyes now."

Clearly on guard and looking like he expected a monster to jump out at him at any moment, Nino lowered his hand and peeked one eye open. As soon as he spotted the onesie Adrien was holding out for him, his guard dropped alongside his gaping mouth.

"The fuck is that?" he managed to choke out, gesturing one finger at the garment—almost as though he were frightened by it.

"Our club uniform," Adrien announced, winking as Mari huffed behind him.

Nino was squinting, the pieces slowly falling together as he then looked Adrien up and down, then Marinette, before focusing back in on the onesie. He didn't ask any questions, didn't appear shocked. Rather, he considered it all very carefully before crossing his arms over his chest and nodding to himself.

"I knew it," he eventually announced.

"Knew what?" Adrien asked, frowning as he lowered his arms.

"That, at the very least, Chat Noir was someone I knew. You asshole! Why didn't you tell me from the start?!"

"Hey!" Scrunching his nose, Adrien dropped the onesie in Nino's lap. "We were trying to be considerate. Just wanted to make sure you had time to change your mind if you wanted to."

"Change my mind? Why would I change my mind?"

"Maybe because we got our butts kicked last week…" Mari mumbled.

"Okay, okay!" Nino raised his hands, quite as though he were trying to order some kind of chaotic crowd, despite the fact that neither Adrien nor Mari were really doing anything. "So, just to have it on my mental record, you two are Chat Noir and Ladybug, correct?"

"Yes." Adrien answered for them both, making sure to strike a confident pose as he did.

"But, like…" Nino's eyes narrowed again, focus flitting between them. "It's the other way around, right?" He was gesturing between them, clearly referencing the fact that their onesies were swapped.

Adrien made a series of unidentifiable throat noises. "Pfft- keh- wha- tch- _No_."

"Yes! Obviously!" Mari corrected quickly.

"I _could_ be Ladybug… If I was allowed…" Adrien pooched his lips into a pout.

"Okay… Okay, cool…" Nino decided, looking almost as though he were balancing on a raft in turbulent waters.

"You seem to be taking this… rather well," Mari observed.

"Ah, yeah… yeah." Nino nodded. "I mean, I've had a week to get used to the idea. So…"

"How anticlimactic," Adrien muttered.

"What'd you think I was gonna do? Freak out and start screaming or something? I've been taking care of a little green fairy with the power to turn me into a turtle superhero for the last week. The existential crisis is already over. Besides," he shrugged, "I wondered if it was you." He was looking pointedly at Adrien.

"What?" Adrien shoved his hands into his onesie pockets. "No you didn't."

"I only know so many people that could potentially be as ridiculous as Chat Noir. You were definitely in the top five."

"I'm not ridiculous…"

"It was a lot harder for me," Mari admitted flatly. "Here I'd spent all that time thinking Adrien was cool."

"Hey!"

"Nope," Nino agreed. "King of the dorks."

"I know. Talk about a rude awakening," Mari agreed.

"You're both mean…"

"So, what is this, exactly?" Nino asked, holding up his onesie. "Like, pajamas?"

"It's just… a stupid thing. I was making one for Alya, but then I gave it to Adrien, and I had one and- its- You don't have to wear it. Or keep it." Mari held out her hand. "I'll take it back if you want."

"What? No!" Nino hogged the onesie to his chest. "I wanna wear it. I wanna be part of the group."

Adrien threw a knowing grin her way. "See? I told you."

"But, like, what would Alya think?" Nino asked a second later. "She'd freak if she knew she was friends with all of Paris' superheroes."

"I think about that a lot," Mari admitted, offering no further examination of the subject.

"You better be careful around her," Adrien advised, sitting backward in one of Mari's other rolling chairs. "She's pretty invasive, and I saw you getting all cozy with her earlier."

"I was not!"

"You were far, far too close," Wayzz agreed, floating slowly up out of Nino's bag. "Especially for someone who knows you personally. You have to keep your identity hidden."

Nino frowned. "I wasn't that close…"

"Your identities are your greatest defense," Tikki lectured, flitting down from Marinette's bed and zipping right up in front of Nino's nose, causing him to jump. Her tone was friendly, however, despite her cautionary words. "Not even friends or family can know. Except, of course, you three."

"Uh…"

"This is Tikki," Mari introduced, smiling as Tikki twirled happily in the air.

A second later, a black blur came bursting out of Adrien's bag. It whizzed across the room and crashed into a stack of thin boxes sitting on Mari's desk, sending the lighter, emptier ones flying. It was the bottom three that were heavy enough only to topple, one of the tops soon shooting off before cheese was dumped all over Mari's keyboard.

"Camembert, camembert, _sweet camembert_!"

"And, uh, that's… that's Plagg," Adrien said, unable to hide his embarrassment.

Wayzz and Tikki both sighed, Plagg happily devouring the cheese without a care for anyone else in the room.

"Plagg, who's so cute and adorable," Mari cooed, picking the little kwami up and nuzzling him to her cheek, despite the piece of stinky cheese he held in his paws. And, as usual, Plagg loved the attention, rolling back in Mari's hold and beginning to purr.

"Don't encourage him," Adrien objected. "Mari- Oh, never mind." He slumped in his seat, trying to look on the positive side. At least Mari didn't seem bothered by the foul stench. This boded well, seeing as _he_ smelled like nasty old cheese most of the time.

"So, like, how long have to two known about… each other?" Nino asked, gesturing between them vaguely. "Cuz, I mean, I _know_ you didn't always know each other's identities. You act way different around each other now than you used to."

Did they? Adrien supposed maybe they did. But who was to say they hadn't just recently become friends? Well, maybe that was why their cover worked so well.

"It's a pretty recent development," Mari admitted. "Like I said, took some getting used to. Oh, Wayzz." She smiled at the little green kwami. "I made this for you." Reaching up beside her computer, she retrieved a covered cup, setting it some way away from Plagg. "Master Fu gave me what he had left of his Silver Needle leaves. It's probably not as good as you're used to, but I added a bit of peach extract and everything like Master Fu said." Lifting the saucer that had been covering the shallow teacup, she revealed a vaguely yellow, transparent liquid. Wayzz darted up to it immediately, his eyes widening as he took a whiff of the steam.

"Is that tea?" Nino asked.

"Yeah. Master Fu said that was what he liked," Marinette explained. "And that Silver Needle was his favorite." Which was clearly apparent, as Wayzz was sipping it already, looking quite pleased.

"You said you didn't have a favorite," Nino claimed, Wayzz looking his way.

"Anything is satisfactory," he determined.

"Silver Needle is just more satisfactory," Plagg muttered, shoving a final bit of his cheese into his mouth before he reached for another full container.

"Who's Master Fu?" Nino asked a second later, latching onto the important information.

"He's kind of like our mentor," Mari explained.

"He's our Gandalf," Adrien expanded. "Our Obi Wan Kenobi; our Dumbledore."

"He's a nice old man," Mari said, smiling just a bit as she eyed Adrien. "One that also happens to know a lot of useful things about the miraculous.'"

"He was my previous master," Wayzz added.

"Your master?!" Nino baulked. "He's still alive?"

"That is correct," Wayzz said simply.

"Wow… So, like, he could help me? Maybe?"

"That's the other thing we need to talk to you about." Mari took over. "As I'm sure you remember just as well as we do, our bout with Volpina and Queen Bee didn't go well."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Nino asked, suddenly very interested. "What was happening that night?"

"They're miraculous users, like us," Adrien replied. "Except we think they might have some kind of… mind connection with Hawkmoth that allows him to access the past knowledge of their miraculouses. Knowledge of combat and abilities. That's why they were so much better than us."

"Oh… okay…" It was clear Nino didn't really understand, and so Mari and Adrien did the best they could to explain. Everything. From what they knew of the miraculouses to Hawkmoth to what Master Fu had told them that morning. The only things they left out were the personal bits—about how their own miraculouses were connected and how spending lots and lots of time together somehow made them stronger. For some reason neither Adrien nor Mari voiced, that seemed far too intimate to share with anyone else.

"And that's why we all have to train with Master Fu now," Adrien finished, Nino taking a deep breath and looking rather bogged down by it all. Which Adrien sympathized with. "Sorry again," he said somewhat meekly. "About… giving you the bracelet."

"Nah, dude, it's cool." Nino managed a small grin. "I'm stoked to be a superhero. Just kinda blows that these Volpina and Queen Bee chicks are such, well, bitches to deal with. I don't feel like I'm gonna be much help to you guys…"

"You saved my life," Mari reasoned. "You've already done more than enough to earn your place. Besides, I don't think this fight is going to be one best fought on the battlefield." Both Adrien and Nino glanced at her curiously. "Well, we know _Volpina's_ identity at least," she went on. "As we are now, it's going to be hard to get her miraculous when she's transformed. But maybe if we can find Lila as civilians, then we can get it that way."

"Huh, that's a thought," Adrien agreed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "It's too bad she transferred."

"Yeah, but, like, someone's got to have her file or something," Nino reasoned. "The school keeps records of that kind of thing, right? Like, where she moved to maybe? But how would we get it…?"

Adrien and Mari shared a look, before Adrien pushed his foot against the floor and rolled his way over to Nino. Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, he patted him lightly.

"So much to learn," he patronized, causing Nino to frown.

"Marinette!" All three of them jumped, the voice from down below sending the kwami scattering to their hiding places. "Alya's here. Do you want me to let her up?"

"Uh…" Mari looked between them quickly. "N-no, I'll come down."

There was a pause, before Sabine spoke again. "Should I tell her you're with other friends?"

"No!" Marinette replied, already slipping out of her onesie as Adrien did the same. "I mean, they left. I let them out the backdoor."

"Oh. Well, I'll tell her you're on your way down."

"Thank you!"

She cringed, glancing between Adrien and Nino. "She won't wait long," she said quickly. "Here, just shove these in that pile of clothes on the work bench," she issued, shoving her onesie into Adrien's arms. "You two go out the skylight. Alya would probably think it's… kind of weird that I'm hanging out with you two up here." Didn't exactly fit their friendship dynamic.

"Okay, sure," Adrien agreed simply, managing a small smile as his gaze only quickly intercepted Mari's. She returned the expression, before turning and padding down the stairs. She pulled the door closed behind her, the sound of Alya's "Girl! You're never going to believe what happened to me today!" sounding suspiciously close to the front door.

"We should go," Adrien muttered, once he'd stashed all three onesies as Mari had directed.

"So, like, I kinda get it now," Nino said, crossing his arms as he stood. "What you meant by complicated."

It took a moment for Adrien to recall what he was referring to, eyebrows scrunching for a second. Before, shortly after, a light blush marred his cheeks.

"Yeah…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Mari and I- It's- There's-" It _was_ complicated, Nino's reference to Adrien's feelings only a small facet of what made it so.

"Hey, no worries," Nino assured. "I feel like there's… something going on between you and her that I don't quite get." He narrowed his eyes. "Like, why your uniforms are getting more alike. And that's totes cool—Ladybug and Chat Noir stuff and all that. Just, know I'm here for you, man, yeah? I got your back—no matter what happens."

Despite not knowing he'd needed to hear such words, Adrien was relieved. It was nice, he decided, having someone who knew, well, everything.

Maybe he would talk to Nino more about his and Mari's situation. Get someone else's viewpoint on it all.

Would that bother Mari?

He'd have to think on it.

"Thanks," he eventually said, gesturing to the skylight. "You wanna patrol? I'll show you all the great spots around town."

"Really?!" Nino's face lit up, causing Adrien to laugh. "Hell yes! Let's do it!"

And so, careful not to dirty Mari's bed, they headed up the stairs and out into the summer afternoon, Adrien feeling a little lighter despite the storm clouds he knew were forming on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the akuma goes to in-the-sky28 on the tumbles! Thanks, Babe ;)
> 
> Huuuuuuuu, first chapter of Part 2! Woot woot! Here we go! Hope you're all ready :DDDDDD
> 
> *violently establishes death being possible in this universe* DEAL WITH IT! But no, seriously, that stuff Fu was talking about is really important. 
> 
> "Sir Pussy." *facepalm*
> 
> Not the heaviest chapter ever, but introducing new characters (or old characters that are kind of new) always makes for a good recap. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed! Thank you!
> 
> Also, Mari and the Cat Son are stupid... Just sayin...


	12. Part Two - Truth and Metaphors

"You wanted to speak with me?" Adrien asked, trying to remove some of the stiffness from his voice and failing horribly. He withheld sighing, instead hooking his thumbs over his pockets as he stared at his father across the study.

As usual, Gabriel was standing at his computer on the other side, seemingly distracted with whatever he was doing. He hadn't even glanced up when Adrien had entered, which wasn't so surprising. But Adrien had less and less patience with his father's attitude these days.

He _had_ considered ignoring the summons, again, in order to force his father to come to him directly, but had thought it might be fairer to simply do as he'd been asked. He'd thought—despite their differing opinions—that he and his father were doing… "alright" as far as their relationship. But now Adrien was regretting giving in. It didn't matter how many guardedly caring words Gabriel happened to let slip out, he was still Gabriel. And Adrien still disapproved of being constantly treated like an employee.

He should have stayed in his room.

Three seconds more of silence and he was going to turn around and leave.

1… 2… 3…

Sighing, he twisted on his heel and took a step toward the doors.

"Where are you going?"

"I was gonna go back to my room," Adrien replied, words clipped. He had paused in his retreat, leaving him in a sort of limbo as he pointed toward the doors. "Since you apparently don't have anything to say to me after all."

His father finally looked at him, sighing as he did. Reaching up, he pulled his glasses off, before rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, but that was pretty typical. Generally speaking, Gabriel was either tired or irritated.

"I'm very busy, Adrien," Gabriel finally said. "A little patience would be appreciated."

"Then don't call me in until you have time to talk," Adrien rebuked. "I'm busy too and don't like to stand around, being ignored, when I could be doing something else. So are you going to tell me what you called me in here for or not?"

"I see your attitude hasn't improved any."

"How about this," Adrien said, gesturing out as though he were making a peace offering (hint: he wasn't). "I'll improve my attitude when you improve yours. Start treating me like your son instead of an employee and I'll consider watching what I say and how I say it. Sound fair to you?"

Gabriel was _not_ impressed.

"I called you in here," Gabriel started, apparently deciding to ignore his son's compromise, "to talk about your summer schedule."

"Usually that's something Nathalie does," Adrien reasoned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, well, I expected you might be difficult about it," Gabriel replied, causing Adrien to purse his lips. "As you should be aware, Men's Haute Couture is this week. I didn't bother scheduling you after… I'm aware that you were recently recovering. Now that school is over for the summer, however, your modeling schedule will pick back up to its usual pace." Gabriel looked directly at him then. "You've missed almost all of our June shows because I considered it more important that you attend school." Which meant no trips to Milan or London this summer. Adrien knew the schedule well. "There is still the showing for Haute Couture this week, however, and then the final men's show in New York."

"I'm not doing any of that this year," Adrien said, knowing full well his father wouldn't appreciate his words. As if expecting his response, however, Gabriel took a deep, exasperated breath. "You can't honestly think I'd agree to spend the summer abroad." It didn't matter if that was their usual course—things were different now. "I can't leave Paris. I'll do whatever you want for Haute Couture, but that's it."

"Adrien…"

"I know what you're trying to do," Adrien continued. "And it's not going to work. I can't afford to leave, especially now. You're clearly up to date on current events and so you have to know that leaving is completely out of the question."

"You have a fashion career to think about, Adrien."

"No, _you_ have a fashion career. I have another job now."

"You're the face of my brand. You have to be present for at least some of these shows. You've already missed most of them—New York is, therefore, very important."

"Well, sorry. I can't."

"Is it really that simple for you?" Gabriel asked, tone short. "Years of work and you're going to push it aside as though it means nothing?"

"It doesn't matter how many years I've been working as a model for you, being here is more important right now."

"Where you're putting yourself in pointless danger every other day."

Adrien ground his teeth. "I'm pretty sure we've already been over the fact that we have very different opinions on this subject."

"You're going to New York, Adrien. I need you there."

"And my friends need me here," Adrien persisted. "You can come up with all the reasons in the world why I should go, but there's no way I'm leaving. Things have gotten way worse in just the last week. There's no compromise here. You're perfectly capable of going without me."

"And leave you here? Alone? No, absolutely not. Besides, half the reason I wanted you in New York is because I can't be there. Nathalie can be in charge of the show, but an Agreste still needs to be present to represent the brand."

"I'm not going."

"I _need_ you to _be there_."

"No."

Gabriel tapped his stylus against his podium somewhat rabidly, scowling just a bit as he did. "You're going to get yourself killed if you stay here."

Adrien scoffed. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You have a choice, Adrien. You don't have to do this. You're right, I am up to date on what you've been doing. The smart thing from here would be to leave. What point is there in fighting a battle you can't possibly win?"

"Seriously? Do you really think we're that incompetent?"

"I think I know enough to realize you're in over your head. I've seen the painful way you've been walking around the house, and that bruise on your jaw. How bad are the ones I can't see?"

"It doesn't matter how many bruises I have, I'm-"

"It matters to me, Adrien!" Gabriel shouted, a slight growl permeating his voice. "I would prefer to _not_ plan your funeral because you were too daft to realize that your role isn't crucial here!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that whatever abilities you have, they're not necessary in fighting these battles. You can still leave it behind!"

"I'm not gonna do that!"

"Adrien, _please_! Can't you just stay out of the way?"

"Out of the _way_?"

Gabriel straightened. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than capable of handling things on her own."

Adrien didn't even know how to reply. What was that supposed to mean? That Ladybug was that much more capable than him? Or that he was simply that useless? Despite knowing it wasn't true, the blow wasn't appreciated. He knew Ladybug was the one that purified the akumas—that she was the variable they couldn't do without. But she'd said it herself, that she needed him. And so he'd do whatever he could to fulfill that expectation.

It was because of her—because of his faith in her—that he could stand before Gabriel without flinching. With his eyes open, the reality of their situation finally sinking in. He saw the truth in her, in Mari, and now he could see the truth in his father too.

Eyes narrowing, Adrien zeroed his gaze in on his father. "You listen," he hissed, uncaring for anything the other man might think. "This is _my_ life—I'll do with it what I want. It doesn't matter whether you think it's pointless or not. You lost any paternal privileges the day mom disappeared and you shut me out of your life."

"I'm your _father_."

"You're _not_!" Adrien shouted, ignoring how his chin trembled. Was it with anger? Grief? He didn't know. "You haven't been my father since Mom was here to make sure you were. And I'm _done_ pretending otherwise. I'm not going to New York; I'm not giving up my ring. And _you_ have no right to try and make me."

"I have every ri-"

"You don't!" Adrien yelled, the sheer ferocity of his voice, and how it echoed around the room, causing Gabriel to lean back in surprise. "You haven't been my father in _years_! You treat me like an obligation; like an employee. You're never around; you hardly return my calls. The only time we see each other is when you're angry or _want_ something from me. I don't care whether you think you're trying to protect me or not—you don't have the right to even try. You don't know me and you never cared to. I make my own decisions now, and if that means I put myself in danger, then that's my choice to make. Which means you get to keep your mouth shut about it. You've never cared about anything I did unless it went against what _you_ wanted. You've _never_ considered what I wanted. And now that I'm in charge, it doesn't matter.

"I _am_ Chat Noir and I'm going to keep _being_ Chat Noir, and nothing you say or do can change that. So why don't you save your breath—like you have been with every part of my life I _wanted_ you involved in—and go back to the things that are clearly more important to you."

Because Adrien was tired of it all. He was tired of fighting with this man, and of feeling bad when he did. He was tired of being trampled over, and of being lead to believe that what his father did—locked him away, neglected him—was for his own good. That his father did it with good intentions. Even if that was true, it didn't justify any of it. It didn't make it okay. He wasn't being a petulant child, saying the things he was.

All he was doing was telling the truth.

"Adrien, you _are_ the most im-"

"No!" Adrien said simply, cutting harshly through his father's words despite how tears welled up behind his eyes. He pushed them forcefully back. Gabriel wouldn't care to see them anyway. "You don't get to say that. I _know_ that I don't deserve to be treated the way you treat me. I don't deserve to be ignored; I don't deserve to feel bad about what I _choose_ to do; and I don't deserve to be in an _abusive relationship_ with my father. One that I keep going back to over and over and over again because I feel _guilty_ about the fact that nothing I do, that I _want_ to do, is good enough for you.

"I'm tired of having to convince myself that my misery is justified because, that way, _you're_ happy. And I'm tired of hoping that someday, if I try hard enough, you'll be the father you should have been.

"You're not my father—my father disappeared the same day my mother did. And I'm not going to continue to fruitlessly hope he'll come back to me when I know he won't."

If his father truly loved him, then this wouldn't be the relationship they'd have. Mari—she'd taught him that. She loved him. She'd forgiven him and supported him. She was _there_ , and she came _back_. And she didn't blackmail him with concern to bend his will to her own. She let him be himself and make his own decisions—even if she disagreed with them.

She'd taught him what real love was supposed to be. And it wasn't this.

"This is _my_ life. And you have no place saying _anything_ about _any_ of it."

Following his speech, all Gabriel could do was blink, his lips having parted some in shock. And the expression, so foreign, nearly had Adrien backtracking—regretting what he'd said. The familiar guilt started to slip through, trying to convince him to back down. Tell him he was wrong and that he should apologize.

But, no. He wasn't going to feel that way anymore. He wasn't going to walk on invisible eggshells around this man any longer. He wasn't going to let the stress and pressure dictate his actions.

This was _his_ life—he had to start living it for himself.

Finally, Gabriel's lips closed, only to open in a stutter. "A-Adrien, you-"

"The subject is closed," Adrien decided decisively. "We're done here."

"Adrien!"

"No." Adrien said sternly. "That's it. Case closed. _Enough_ , Gabriel."

So many tethers torn, Adrien almost swearing he heard that last one snap.

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Not even bothering to hold eye contact any longer, he turned. Without a bit of hesitation, he went to the doors. He pushed his way out, any sense of anger or grief slipping away. Or, perhaps, simply remaining to haunt the room where his unforgiving words had been issued.

Almost as though there was nothing to feel. He was numb.

But how long had it been by then? For how long had this… thing between him and his father been deteriorating?

What, exactly—aside from his own naïve hopes—was he even giving up?

As he was headed up the stairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he paused at the top of the landing. And, just like that, the chilled glass inside him shattered, flooding him with warmth when he saw that name.

He softly smiled, and remembered that not everything was as cold as his father's eyes, or the marble walls that could no longer close him in.

**Marinette – Are you okay? :(**

Heading down the hall, Adrien focused on his phone, and on the new tether—one he trusted more and more everyday—that seemed to tie him to the words spread across the screen.

_Adrien – That's kind of an odd question to ask out of the blue ;b_

He paused outside his door, waiting for a response. He was not disappointed.

**Marinette – I know. Sorry. I just had a feeling I guess. I don't know. It's stupid. You're okay though?**

Turning the knob that would take him into his bedroom, he typed back, about to hit send when, glancing up, he almost dropped his phone in surprise.

The feeling only lasted a few seconds, his wide, blinking eyes taking in the scene. Before he gulped, shoved his phone into his pocket, and hastily closed his bedroom door behind him.

Hesitantly, he walked forward, cautious and curious, and reaching up to make sure his makeup was still in place. It felt like it was, so hopefully his bruise would remain sufficiently covered.

"I can tell you're nervous," she said after a moment, Adrien having come to a halt just beside his desk of computer monitors. "I can sense your fear, you know." She turned, that long, brown hair heavy down her back. The orange of her suit shined in the glow from the fixtures above their heads. "But you're not as afraid as I would have expected."

She smiled.

Adrien quickly tried to come up with a plan.

"Li-Lila?" he asked, looking her up and down. He supposed he had no real way of knowing whether she was an illusion or not. Their last battle had proven that she could, somehow, create illusions that could withstand touch. This could be a fake, a projection. He had to be careful.

"I'm Volpina," she corrected, pointing her flute his way. He almost jumped at the motion, every bruise on his body throbbing harshly. "But don't worry," she pulled the weapon back, cocking it on her shoulder. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Been there, done that. But Adrien was starting to think he was the only one that knew as much.

"Haha… Y-you're not?" he asked, grinning as best he could as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Of course not, Adrien," she replied easily. "I would never even consider it."

"Oh…" He needed to get his thoughts together, so he could act. Do something. Anything. "But Ladybug, she… she said you were dangerous." The scowl that immediately dropped across Volpina's face caused Adrien to pale. Maybe that had been the way, way wrong thing to say. And he really didn't want that flute coming at him when he was stuck in his civilian form.

It'd likely do far more damage than he wanted to imagine.

"Ladybug is a liar!" she spat, Adrien shying back a bit. His discomfort seemed to sober her a bit, her posture straightening as the anger gradually slipped from her expression. "Ladybug doesn't know what she's talking about," she corrected, tone even, if not a little stiff. "But I didn't come here to talk about Ladybug."

"Uh, then… what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you of course," she replied, smiling sweetly once again. "I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but you haven't completely forgotten about me, have you?"

"Of course not…"

"Ladybug interrupted us last time," she went on, examining her gloved hand for just a moment, before glancing his way again. "But I don't think we have to worry about that this time."

"Wh-what, exactly, did she interrupt?" Adrien asked, not entirely comfortable with where this was going. But it wasn't the type of situation where he had a lot of choices, which meant he had to make the best if it.

She liked him, he knew that much. Maybe… maybe he could use that to his advantage somehow?

"Our date, of course," Volpina replied, finally sheathing her flute behind her back as she walked toward him. Watching her with wide eyes, Adrien didn't move, instead allowing her to come forward, take his hand, and pull him toward the bed. There, she sat down on the end, before tugging him down with her.

The miraculous dangled around her neck, flashing on its golden chain. It was so close. He could literally reach out and touch it. But, even so, it was likely beyond his strength to retrieve. He'd have to get it over her head, over all that hair.

Or… convince her to remove it for him.

Her free hand (because the other was still gripping his own) came up and wrapped around her miraculous, jolting Adrien's gaze back up to her own.

"This _is_ a real miraculous," she explained. "Ladybug was the one that was lying. She was jealous, like I said. Because I'm more powerful than she is." Dropping the necklace, she cupped his hand with both of her own, scooting a little closer. "I told you there were other superheroes, ones even better than Ladybug."

"Hah, yeah, I guess you did," Adrien agreed, unsure how she'd react if he slid back a bit, or pulled his hand from hers. He didn't want to make her angry, or push her away. If there was any chance he had at getting her miraculous, he had to take it. And if that meant pretending he believed her, then that was what he'd do. "It must be pretty great, being a superhero. But… but why did Ladybug say you were dangerous?"

No, she didn't know him, but that didn't mean he could simply act as though he wasn't aware of what was going on in the world. True, he could play dumb—he had every intention of doing so—but that only went so far. And if he wanted his part to be convincing, he had to remain realistic.

He couldn't simply ask for her miraculous. Or, at least, that didn't seem like the wisest choice he could make. Better to feel her out first.

"Ladybug doesn't understand," she replied, her focus flitting to the windows. "She's become too conceited and self-important. She's no superhero."

"But she fights Hawkmoth, doesn't she?" Adrien asked. "And he's bad…"

"Hawkmoth is misunderstood, just like me," she explained, looking his way again. "It's Ladybug's fault that he does what he does. He doesn't have any other choice. Don't you see?" Her hands gripped tighter. "If she just gave up her miraculous, the akumas would stop. All Hawkmoth wants is to help, but he can't do that without Ladybug's miraculous."

"Oh…" Jeez, how did he respond to that? "But what about Chat Noir? Doesn't Hawkmoth need his miraculous too?"

"Chat Noir is an idiot," she said simply, Adrien pursing his lips against the irritation that sprang up through him. "He follows her around like a love-sick puppy. If Ladybug gave up her miraculous, he'd do the same. It's Ladybug that's the problem. She has him convinced she's something so special and amazing. It's pathetic, the way he practically worships her."

"Well, I mean, I don't think he _worships_ her," Adrien replied. "They're a team, right?"

"I didn't come here to talk about them," she snapped. "Or Hawkmoth." That smile returned, the easy way it flitted on and off her face somewhat disconcerting. "I came to see you; to talk about _us_."

"U-us?"

"You can't honestly still be stuck on the bug, not after what I've told you."

What had he told her, exactly? Not really anything useful, in any case.

"I'd never lie to you, Adrien," she _lied_. "I'm supposed to keep my identity a secret, but I told you, didn't I? I trust you. Don't you trust me?"

He barely knew her! "Of course I… trust you," he replied, doing his best to grin again. "It's just a little shocking, learning the truth."

"I know," she replied, looking far too overly sympathetic. "But I'm a superhero too, Adrien. A _real_ superhero. Put your faith in me now. I'll save Paris, and expose Ladybug for what she really is."

"Sounds… exciting…" He had no idea what to say. Oh god, he was going to blow this. And then she was going to kill him. Or at least hit him so hard he'd end up in the hospital. He almost thought maybe he should text Mari and Nino, but immediately squashed that idea. Volpina had advantages they didn't, and they were nowhere near being able to take that on.

He had to deal with it himself. He could do this.

"Wh-what's it like?" he asked. "Being a superhero?"

A question that visibly pleased her. "It's _amazing_. I love it. I mean, I've always been a superhero, ever since my Grandma gave me this necklace, but it never gets old."

Well, he couldn't disagree with that.

"What kind of powers do you have?"

"I'm stronger, and I can fly."

"That's… it?" Should he be impressed by that? Would civilians be impressed with that? Ladybug and Chat Noir had other powers that Paris was aware of. Was it reasonable that he expected more?

"There are other things too," she replied cryptically. "But it doesn't matter. Like I said, I want to talk about _us_. I know you're a really popular model and that you probably have girls fawning all over you all the time. But would you be willing to give someone like me a chance? I am a superhero, after all."

Oh god, what did he say? If he said no, she'd leave, or worse. If he said yes… He wasn't sure he wanted that either. But if it would lead him to getting her miraculous… Granted, he didn't really want to abuse her feelings for him to get what he wanted, but he also had to focus on the big picture. She was dangerous, and didn't care one bit about the peril she put Ladybug or Chat Noir in. This was about their lives, and the potential lives of other citizens.

She wasn't a real hero—she wanted the power for all the wrong reasons. As Chat Noir, it was his responsibility to get her miraculous. Even if he had to hurt her to do it.

Besides, he wasn't sure he really had the option of rejecting her.

"Um, I- I guess I could," he finally agreed. "But let's just… take it slow, okay? It's kind of intimidating, that you're a superhero. I'm still a little shocked over the whole thing."

"Of course!" she agreed, face beaming. "We'll take things as slow as you want. Just so long as you're _mine_."

Adrien gulped.

"But you're right, I can see you're still a bit overwhelmed by me," she went on. "I'll give you some time to get used to it. And maybe next time I stop by, you'll be… more excited to see me?"

"Uh, of course," he assured, forcing a smile onto his face. "You're leaving?"

"I have… superhero things to do. Based on my research, it's at about this time that Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. I can't stay here if I have any hope of… running into them."

"Oh…"

"I'll see you soon though," she murmured, leaning in just a little bit closer. Adrien's eyes widened, but she didn't push it any further. Instead, after fluttering those long eyelashes in his direction a few seconds longer, she finally dropped his hand and stood.

The sway of her hips was only accented more by her long tail, Adrien watching her with baited breath. Until she was hopping up on the edge of his open window.

Casting one last smile in his direction, she then sparked into an orange blur and was gone.

Adrien's hand went immediately to his chest, breathing labored as all the tension that had coiled inside him exploded. He felt abruptly nauseous and hot, and as though the world was closing in on him. It was a familiar feeling, actually, but generally caused by his father and not a girl that wanted to date him.

But Volpina wasn't just any girl. She was powerful and on the wrong side.

And he'd just agreed to be… something with her.

What had he done? What was he _going_ to do?

The night just kept going from bad to worse. Pulling out his phone, he quickly pulled up a joint message between himself, Mari, and Nino. He wasn't sure if they'd had plans to patrol that night or not, but they definitely weren't going now. Not with Volpina out, looking for them.

_Adrien – Don't go out tonight. Spotted Volpina._

He'd leave it at that for now. Explaining what had just happened didn't seem like something he should do over text. And he was afraid it'd panic Mari. The last thing he wanted was her suiting up to come check on him. In fact, the best thing they could do then was stay as far from one another as possible.

Hide.

He hated it, but they didn't have any other choice. They weren't in any position to deal with Volpina. Or, even worse, both her _and_ Queen Bee.

Heart still pounding, Adrien lay back on his bed, his argument with his father seeming abruptly far away. It still thrummed in the back of his mind, but the numbness was holding out. At least, for now.

He had more important things to think about, and far worse things to be afraid of than his father.

**oOo**

"This is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning," Nino whined, huffing as he bent over and put his hands on his knees. Marinette had come to a halt ahead of him, Adrien doing the same shortly after. The two of them were hardly winded, breathing normally in comparison to Nino's laboring. But they'd also been superheroes a lot longer, and so were in much better shape.

"It'll get easier," Adrien assured, going back and patting Nino comfortingly on the back. "Don't worry though, we're almost there." Decked out in their workout clothes, they'd gotten up bright and early that Saturday morning. They'd all met up by six, and so had begun the long jog that would take them to Master Fu's over in Paris' Quartier Chinois—Chinatown. It was a nearly thirty minute trip by car, and so going on foot they'd figured would take a considerable amount longer. Having to stop so Nino could catch his breath every ten minutes had extended it even further. But they were supposed to be getting in shape, and so it seemed kind of silly to take the subway or hitch a ride when they could just use the situation to their advantage.

Marinette and Adrien had agreed to carry the bags with their stuff in it—mostly just water bottles, a few healthy snacks, camembert for Plagg, and two umbrellas, since it was supposed to rain. Not terribly heavy, but probably enough to exhaust Nino that much further if he'd had to heft his the whole way.

Not that Marinette, nor Adrien, were blaming him for being so far behind. Marinette didn't want to consider what it would have been like, being suddenly thrust into such an intense workout regime. Both she and Adrien had had months doing hero stuff, working out beneath their suits, that suddenly deciding to exercise rather heavily hadn't seemed like a big deal. Nino didn't have that luxury.

"We can walk the rest of the way," Marinette added, smiling. "It's only a few more buildings down." Nino nodded, sweating through his green t-shirt as he straightened.

"I had no idea you two were in such good shape," he gasped out as they continued walking, the sidewalks pretty empty that early in the morning. Anyone headed to work was already there, and anyone else was sane enough to still be sleeping.

"Kind of comes with the territory," Adrien replied, handing Nino a water bottle in the same moment. Around them, the street signs had long since turned to Chinese characters, the aromas wafting from some of the shops reminding Marinette of the traditional dishes her mother sometimes made.

"So long as I get the same kind of results out of it as you guys did," he replied, taking a drink from the bottle before wiping the sweat from his brow. "My family thinks I have a summer job, and seeing as I actually don't, I better get _something_ out of this."

"Don't worry, you'll be in the best shape of your life by the end of the month," Adrien assured. "Besides the workout we'll be doing, I doubt Master Fu is going to go easy on us."

Marinette agreed. For all of Master Fu's help, he didn't seem like the coddling type. But they'd already discussed that this was to be their priority number one, which meant no slacking. Tikki, Plagg, and Wayzz had assured them that, as miraculous holders, their bodies would be able to take the stress. So long as they wore their respective jewelry, they'd have a heightened recovery time as far as physical stress—a fact that was already apparent by how quickly Adrien and Marinette were healing from their wounds.

"Wait, this is the place?" Nino asked, once they'd slowed outside the older, two-story building with boarded up windows and chipping paint. It looked even shabbier in the daytime, the string of red lanterns lining the outside doing little to improve the aesthetic. "Well, I guess it's inconspicuous."

"His other house got burned down by Hawkmoth," Adrien muttered as Marinette knocked on the door. "Don't judge."

"I wasn't judging," Nino replied. "Not like my place looks much better. Just was kind of expecting some kind of sleek-ass secret lair. Or, like, an old Chinese training temple in a tree or something."

"Sorry. Being a superhero isn't quite what they show on television," Marinette replied.

"Such a disappointment," Nino decided, sighing rather dramatically. "And here I wasn't satisfied with a turtle fairy that gives me super strength and the power to fly."

"Superhero life's not what it used to be," Adrien agreed.

Marinette rolled her eyes, before snapping her attention to the door. Master Fu had pulled it open, smiling gently up at them as he did. He beckoned them inside, Marinette quickly taking in the changes that had been made to the large, once empty room.

Cheap, white lanterns similar to the one that hung over the single table were strung from the ceiling, lighting the hardwood floors from one side of the room to the other. To the left, against the wall, was a large, old cabinet at least a head taller than Adrien and wide enough to fit them all inside with room to spare. On the far side, stacked against the wall, were multiple sets of weights, mats, and benches, all looking far older than any exercise equipment Marinette had ever seen.

The rest of the room remained empty, wide, and somehow far more intimidating without all the shadows to hide its depth.

"Come, sit," Master Fu said, once he'd closed and locked the door behind them. He was gesturing them toward the table at the head of the room, where he had a tray with his usual teapot set up. Only this time he had four cups instead of one.

Marinette almost—out of sheer habit—took as seat right beside Adrien, despite how squished under the table that would leave them. But her eyes flicked to Nino before she could, an unexplainable kind of self-consciousness changing her mind. Instead, she veered around Adrien and took another side of the table, aware of the way he watched her as she did.

She didn't return his gaze.

"I'm glad you all could come this morning," Master Fu started, once every side of the table was taken up by a body. "Especially those who I have not met before." He was looking directly at Nino, smiling a bit as he bowed his head. Nino mimicked the motion, looking between Adrien and Master Fu as though needing reassurance. "I'm sure you already know that I am Fu."

"Uh, yeah, Master Fu, right?" Nino asked, scratching the back of his head as he did. "You were Wayzz's old partner. I mean! You're not old! That's not what I meant. Uh… I'm Nino…"

"Do not be nervous," Master Fu said, smiling a little wider as he did. "I am old, it's true. Despite how I'd like to tell myself otherwise. But," he turned his attention on them all again, "I seem to be feeling my age these days, without Wayzz here to hide it from me."

"You imply that I was deceitful in some fashion," Wayzz interjected, all three kwami having floated up out of their respective hiding places to either hover above or, in Plagg's case, sit on the table. "You are well aware of the effects a miraculous has on the physical body."

"Yes, I'm aware," Master Fu conceded, peering almost fondly at Wayzz, who seemed to be looking anywhere but at his old partner. Marinette and Adrien shared a look, Marinette somehow knowing he was thinking along the same lines she was. She couldn't imagine it, seeing Tikki with someone else. And while Master Fu was apparently taking it in stride, Wayzz was even more stiff and emotionless than usual.

Of course, kwami were living things too. It'd be silly to think they didn't grow attached. What would it feel like to Tikki, to be separated from her?

Marinette didn't want to think about it anymore.

"In fact, it is some of those physical effects that I want to discuss with you all, before we begin your training. But still before that," Master Fu took hold of his teapot, "would you all like some tea?"

No one objected, though Nino was the only one not to drink his. Instead, silently, he pointed at the cup as he made eye contact with Wayzz. The little green kwami didn't reject the offer, sinking down to the cup and silently lifting it to his mouth.

"Have the physical effects of the miraculous on the user been explained?" Master Fu asked, once he'd taken a sip from his own tea.

"Wayzz and I explained some of it," Tikki offered, Plagg rolling his eyes before falling back against the table, a motion that Tikki seemed to notice. She glanced only quickly at the little black cat, before returning her attention to Master Fu. Marinette furrowed her eyebrows at the exchange, and tried to catch Adrien's attention, but he was staring down at Plagg. He looked almost concerned, before he reached up and gently scratched one nail between those pointed black ears.

"But I doubt it would hurt to go over the details again," Wayzz concluded.

Plagg groaned, which finally got a reaction out of Wayzz. Little forehead scrunching, the green kwami turned what was clearly a disapproving glare on his complaining counterpart, who was either unaware of the look or didn't care to acknowledge it.

"A better attitude from you would probably be helpful," Wayzz reprimanded, all three teenagers' eyes popping wide in surprise. "This is serious. For once, you could at least act like you cared."

"Oh put a sock in it, Wayzz," Plagg countered, still without looking up.

"I certainly hope your attitude will have improved by the time we get started," Wayzz continued, seemingly unfazed. "This is the time for an accelerated cycle, whether you like it or not."

"Wayzz…" Tikki murmured out, frowning.

"Screw off!" Plagg spat, bolting upright as he did. The venom in his tone took them all aback, Adrien reaching toward his kwami uncertainly.

Should they interfere with kwami drama? Was that allowed?

Master Fu wasn't saying anything…

"As childish as expected," Wayzz muttered.

"That's uncalled for, Wayzz," Tikki scolded lightly.

"The truth is never uncalled for."

Plagg hissed, Adrien finally wrapping his hands around his kwami, though his hold was clearly loose. Nino had stiffened as well, the two boys sharing uncertain looks. But Plagg didn't attack. Rather, ears pinned back and tail whipping, he glared at the side of Wayzz's head for a few seconds before blurring his way off the table and up into Adrien's hair. Where he crouched, seething, and said nothing.

"Not uncalled for, no," Tikki agreed, "but something that should always be handled delicately and with thought for those beyond our comprehension." Her tone was smooth, but stern, and Wayzz offered no response.

Glancing up at Plagg, Tikki remained hovering in front of Marinette for only a second, before she flitted up and joined Plagg in Adrien's hair. The black kwami turned away from her immediately, but didn't leave. And so Tikki simply sat with him.

It was Marinette and Adrien's turn to share a look, but they dared not pursue the subject.

Master Fu took a deep breath—though it was in no way exasperated. Rather, it was as if he were silently giving himself, and the three teenagers, the cue to move on.

"The effects of the miraculous on the physical body will allow for rigorous training beyond what would be healthy for a regular person," Master Fu started. "The stress will be countered by the power within your miraculous, and so you must wear your jewelry at all times." Something they already did anyway. "It is a direct link between yourself and your kwami. All of whom will, of course, do their duty to make this as easy on you as possible." He didn't say it as a scolding, or a warning. No, he said it as a fact.

"There are other effects as well." Master Fu looked directly at Marinette. "You will likely notice less of the physical changes than Adrien or Nino. The miraculous seeks to better its users in all fashions, but only within the parameters those users are capable of and with what would be most beneficial to the specific miraculous. Of course, if a miraculous user does nothing, then there will be no improvements, but actively trying to strengthen yourselves will cause the miraculous to cast influence.

"You, Marinette, have already physically matured in many ways your male counterparts are still working through." Master Fu smirked. "Puberty works that way." Taking his words as an underhanded compliment, Marinette grinned while Adrien and Nino both directed their stares down at the tabletop. "But you still have plenty of room for variation," Master Fu went on. "My point is that changes will likely be more obvious in the boys, and so you two," he drew Adrien and Nino's attention, "should be ready for that.

"The miraculous has an overall biological effect, and so when you begin vigorously training, the miraculous will increase in how it counters that stress. But this will exaggerate how it flows through every part of you. Not only will you become stronger, but your growth rates will increase. Your full height, for example—which may have taken you years to reach—will now only take months."

"So, wait, you're saying we're getting, like, a free pass through puberty?" Nino asked. "I'm not gonna complain about that."

"It's not a free pass," Master Fu corrected, tone smooth and easy. "It isn't just the physical that is affected. Brain development overall, decision making abilities, emotional responses, all these things will be actively stretched toward a maturity that would not be expected of individuals at your age. But only as far as you're specific makeups and predispositioned strengths allow."

"So it's basically aging us faster?" Adrien asked, though he didn't appear at all certain.

"No." Master Fu shook his head. "Aging is to imply a certain degree of degradation. The miraculous seeks to make a host the most actively adept person their body is capable of. Miraculous users actually age more slowly. Once you reach your max maturity, it will appear as though you don't age at all."

"We stop aging?" Marinette asked, uncertain how she felt about such a prospect.

"No, nothing can stop that. But your higher functioning health will slow the process considerably. I, for example, was bestowed my miraculous at the age of forty, as all guardians were. How old would you suspect I am now?"

The three looked between one another, before Adrien dared to throw out a guess. "Somewhere around sixty?"

"I'm one-hundred and eighty seven."

Every teenage mouth at the table dropped open.

"You will age, but so long as you wear the miraculous, the degradation of such will be actively countered. Remove the miraculous and you will begin to age at a regular pace. It is not eternal life, however, so do not aspire to live for another thousand years. Besides, most miraculous users give up their power before they age out of their generations."

"Why?" Nino asked.

"Some have no choice in the matter," Master Fu explained. "Some desire to live normal lives. Others… die a hero's death. There are many reasons."

"And that's how you ended up with so many?" Marinette asked.

"It is the guardian's duty to harbor and protect the miraculouses and their secrets. But—just as there are private experiences that you and Adrien share as holders of a joint miraculous—there are facets of being a guardian that are not open to public discussion."

In other words, they needed to keep their noses where they belonged.

"But… wait…" Nino looked between them all uncertainly. "You were the last guardian…"

"The holder of the turtle miraculous is always the guardian."

"Oh…"

"Do not fret," Master Fu said, smiling again. "If you were not up to the task, then Wayzz would have rejected you as a miraculous holder. I have every confidence in you. Besides, you have an advantage that most miraculous users never get. The previous holder of your miraculous is still active, as all guardians seek to be. You may not be related to me by blood, but I _will_ mentor you personally—outside of the training you will receive with your peers."

"That is lucky," Adrien interjected, despite how Nino's lips had parted curiously. "I wish there was an older Chat Noir that could tell me how to do things."

"Very rarely do miraculous users, other than the guardian, have mentors in previous miraculous users," Master Fu replied. "And they were all more than successful. You and Marinette will do just fine."

"So long as they spend more time together," Wayzz interjected, looking up between both Marinette and Adrien. "Your auras are stale. You've been neglecting one another."

The silence that followed this accusation made it quite clear that neither Marinette nor Adrien knew how to respond.

Master Fu sighed, looking between them almost disapprovingly.

"I've been busy…" Adrien finally defended, though his tone was weak. "We saw each other on Tuesday." Which was, well, true. Marinette hadn't faulted Adrien for his lack of time—it was fashion week. He'd told her he'd be doing his father's shows for Haute Couture. And also that it'd be done with by Saturday.

Master Fu did not appear convinced.

Neither Marinette nor Adrien offered further defense, however. In Marinette's case, it wasn't an issue of her _not_ wanting to spend time with Adrien. It'd just been hard these last few weeks. Between the fire and school and…

"What do you mean, their auras are 'stale?'" Nino asked.

"Ah, yes, this part of holding the turtle miraculous can be openly discussed," Master Fu replied. "Just as the Fox miraculous can sense fear and the Bee miraculous can sense intention, the turtle miraculous can sense energies."

"It is how I knew the Butterfly miraculous had been activated, and why we sought to find holders for the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses," Wayzz added.

"Wayzz is able to sense fluctuations in energy patterns, both around people and in the general environment," Master Fu finished.

"Well… that's useful," Adrien said. "I mean, if you can sense stuff like that, then couldn't you just…sense out where Hawkmoth is or something?"

"You exaggerate my abilities," Wayzz explained. "I can sense strong fluctuations, and detect auras of those near me. But the ether that exists in everything, or as you know it, soul energy, is constant and flowing. The world is congested with it. I cannot simply zero in on any one aura or soul, unless the signal is strong enough that it stretches out toward me first."

"As when the Butterfly miraculous was activated," Master Fu clarified. "Or when you two activated the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses."

"And even though I sensed when Nooroo was released, all miraculous user are shielded from my abilities. I can sense your auras when you're in civilian forms," Wayzz nodded to Marinette and Adrien, "but as soon as you are transformed, I am blinded to you. Even as miraculous holders, that added power which flows through you constantly is a blind spot to my senses."

"Well that's… perfectly not helpful, then," Nino decided.

"The turtle miraculous is a defensive miraculous." Master Fu took over again. "A shield and a sensor, but not inherently offensive or meant to be used that way. The Fox miraculous, too, is a defensive miraculous. It creates illusions, shields, to bar the way, and senses the fears in others to use them in the same fashion. The Bee miraculous, by contrast, utilizes offensive techniques. It gives the holder the ability to sense the intentions in others and use those to their tactical advantage. Of all the miraculouses, the Bee is the most physically offensive, just as the Turtle is the most physically defensive. All the others fall somewhere in-between that spectrum—with the exception of the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses, of course." Master Fu's smile was practically teasing.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Adrien said flatly.

"So where do we fall?" Marinette asked. "And do we have sensory abilities too?"

"The abilities of the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses lie in creation and destruction," Master Fu replied. "They aren't even on a similar spectrum. And as far as sensory abilities, that is… not totally known to me. I know the Black Cat and Ladybug tend to have higher physical senses—able to hear better, notice movements. The Black Cat is generally more capable at night, while the Ladybug finds more strength in the daytime. But if there are any acute abilities that they possess, as other miraculouses do, then it is a well kept secret between those who wield the Ladybug and Black Cat powers."

"Ugh, typical!" Adrien griped, folding his arms over the table and sinking his chin down upon them. "And I'm guessing you two aren't going to tell us anything?" He was looking up, as though he'd actually be able to see the two kwami nested in his hair.

"We tell you what you need to know," Tikki said simply.

Both Marinette and Adrien huffed.

"Do not be too let down," Master Fu tried to comfort. "All knowledge comes with patience. Speaking of, it is time that we got to the reason why you're all here in the first place." Their training. "I've set up a daily schedule."

Adrien pumped a celebratory fist.

"Despite my age, I am a master in many martial arts forms, some of which I will teach to you. You will be surprised at how quickly you pick it up. We will dedicate about an hour to that, before I'll take each of you aside for an hour and educate you in the weaponry specific to your miraculous. The two of you not in training with me are expected to utilize that time wisely, and actively. Once that's finished, we will train for another hour in more martial arts. Eventually, that will be followed by sparring between you, but I think that would do more harm than good at this point."

"So, wait, that's like…" Nino counted on his fingers. "That's like six hours of training a day. Is that seven days a week?"

"Preferably."

"Oh god, I'm not going to survive this."

"You will be fine," Master Fu said, chuckling. "And if it's appropriate," he was looking directly at Nino, "I'd like you to stay a few hours after, for personal mentoring. It is true, you are lucky in having a previous miraculous holder to guide you."

"Sure, I guess," Nino replied, shrugging rather exaggeratedly. "I'll just tell anyone who asks that my summer job is super intense. And that I'm saving all the money I'm not actually making to… buy a boat."

"It's amazing the lies you have to tell when you're a superhero," Marinette added, laughing a bit as she did.

"But think of this," Adrien started, pointing finger guns in Nino's direction. "We're gonna be the hottest guys in school after this."

"Pffft." Nino waved him off. "We already have that title."

"Beauty and brains," Adrien agreed.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "That's debatable…"

"I was clearly including you in that," Adrien clarified.

"I'm flattered," Marinette replied. "I always wanted to be one of the hottest guys in school."

"Good on you, Marinette," Nino encouraged. "Pursue those dreams."

"So inspiring," Adrien concluded.

"I'll be so hot, I'll steal all your fangirls away," she threatened, comment clearly directed at Adrien.

"I'm pretty sure you already have more fangirls than me anyway, My Lady."

"I'll point to Alya as a prime example," Nino added.

"Guess that'll make it slim pickings for you," she said, poking Adrien on the shoulder.

"That's quite alright," he assured, waggling his eyebrows above his smirk. "Pretty positive I've already told you that you're the only girl I'm interested in impressing."

Marinette pretended to gag. "Good thing I'm gonna be a hot guy soon, then."

"That makes no difference to me."

Marinette sighed.

"You two really are as gross as the news channels make out," Nino deduced. "Always flirting with each other. And on live television too."

"He flirts as a neurotic habit," Marinette defended. "I just try and live with it."

"I don't think I've ever seen Adrien fl-" Whatever Nino was going to say, it came to an abrupt halt when he flinched back from the table. Adrien was glaring at him, lips pooched, and Marinette could only assume that, whatever Nino had been about to say, Adrien had thwacked him under the table before he could.

Not that it mattered. She didn't need Nino to agree or disagree to know Adrien was a shameless flirt. Or so he was when he let himself go enough to be more Chat-like and less the reserved celebrity he was in school.

Starting suddenly, they all turned when the sound of heavy, oaken doors creaking open echoed around the room. Master Fu had since stood, going to the cabinet against the left wall. And as he pulled the doors fully open, the menagerie of weapons hanging inside inspired them all to stand and make their way over.

"Wow, this is some antique shit," Nino awed.

"Indeed. This collection has been passed down from guardian to guardian, in the hopes that any miraculous user in need of training would have all the tools available. And it was, thankfully, here instead of in my parlor when Hawkmoth attacked."

"Did you have a lot of miraculous relics here, instead of in your shop?" Marinette asked.

"Some, but all the most important pieces I kept close to me, and so we find ourselves in our current dilemma. But the time for that kind of regret is over." Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out a tall staff, one that dwarfed him and was taller still than Marinette. It was carved intricately up and down, the ends graduating abruptly wider. No doubt where they were weighted.

Holding it firmly in two hands, Master Fu held it out to her, Marinette hesitating for only a moment as she stared down at it. How old was it, she wondered. The metal was clearly aged, darker and in some places rubbed smooth. Perhaps by the hands of other Ladybugs before her. How many of them had wielded the weapon before she had? How much history was in those worn patches of metal?

Swallowing, Marinette finally allowed her hand to reach for the staff, the surface chilled as she wrapped her fingers around it. And as Master Fu's hold dropped back, the heavy weight of the weapon caused her arm to tense.

It seemed so much heavier than the staff she'd wielded while transformed. And yet, the weight seemed appropriate.

Turning it vertical, she brought it closer, out of the way, as Master Fu returned his attention to the cabinet.

He pulled out a pair of equally designed nunchackus, all four totaling handles appearing as worn in places as her staff did. Adrien took them with what looked like the same degree of dumbfounded awe as she had—as if he didn't know what to do with them once he had them.

But perhaps there was truth to that idea.

"There is also a staff in here to replicate your use of such, but I think you've had quite enough practice there. Perhaps we'll use it when you spar—teach Marinette a few things."

Adrien turned a gloating gaze on her, and so she stuck out her tongue at him.

"I do not have any yoyos," Master Fu went on. "Without magical properties, they're hardly useful in training. But, like Adrien, you seem well-versed enough there." He'd already put his attention back on the cabinet, all of them able to deduce what he'd reach for next.

The old shield was decorated with Chinese characters around the edges, bordered further in with mirroring dragons. In the center was an etching of the same turtle design that made up Nino's bracelet, as well as was stamped on the back of his armor—between his shoulder blades—when he was transformed.

It had some faded areas, and bubbles where corrected dents may have existed. Overall, it looked more worn than any of the other pieces. As if it'd seen far more formal training than any of the other pieces.

Nino took the shield, examining it closer as Marinette surveyed what remained in the cabinet.

Hanging from right to left—with spaces for the weapons that had just been removed—was a thin, rapier like sword. No hilt, and clearly dull despite possessing a blade. Beside it was what looked like a cane, metal and as intricately designed as Marinette's staff. Hanging near the middle was the staff Master Fu had referenced for Adrien, the space beside it where Marinette's own staff had previously hung.

Beside that, almost symbolically, were two discs, ornate carvings of Ladybugs engraved into their surface. Placeholders for her yoyos.

Further still was a thin, metal flute, and beside that weapons Marinette had never seen before.

Above all the weapons present, the two intricately decorated steel fans were in the best condition. Only marred by a few light scratches, they glittered with a degree of shine none of the other weapons possessed, almost as though they'd hardly ever been used.

"So I'm counting all these up." Nino broke the silence. "And I'm assuming that cane and those fans belong to miraculous users we haven't, like, met?"

"The cane is wielded by the holder of the Butterfly miraculous," Master Fu explained. "And the fans by another."

"What miraculous are the fans for?" Adrien asked directly.

Master Fu stroked his beard thoughtfully, humming before he finally answered. "A very elusive miraculous holder," he finally replied, no less vague than he had been before. "That particular miraculous went missing during the age of the first guardian, nearly two-thousand years ago. It has never been in the possession of a guardian since."

"So… it's lost?" Marinette asked.

"It's a miraculous that prefers to remain obscured."

"Wait, wait, wait," Nino cut in quickly. "Obscured? Now, look, if that cane is the weapon Hawkmoth uses, and this other miraculous holder prefers to remain, what, like, secret? Then is it… Is that blue thing we saw, is that _this_ miraculous user?" He pointed directly at the fans.

"You seem quite certain it was a miraculous user," Master Fu observed.

"Well, yeah," Nino replied. "I mean, it was clearly magical. And if being obscure is its thing, then that explains why these two were all messed up in the head after it left, and I wasn't. I'm immune to the effects of other miraculous users, right? I mean, the damn thing dispersed Queen Bee and Volpina like they were dead leaves."

"It's possible," Master Fu mused. "But I am… hesitant to assume as much without proof."

"Why? What else could it be?" Adrien asked.

"I don't know," he replied, "but the idea that it is another miraculous user disconcerts me. That means all the miraculouses are active. Such a great number has not been heard of since… since the dawn of the miraculouses."

"So… never?" Marinette asked.

"Not since the miraculouses were first observed," Master Fu replied. "But that is not for us to ponder over now. We must commence in your training." Reaching out, he closed and locked the cabinet, making it quite clear that the subject of other miraculous users—no matter how interesting—was to be dropped. "Put your weapons over on that side of the room," he pointed to where the mats and other tools were set up, "and meet me in the middle. Then we will begin."

And so they did. Master Fu was no pushover, and he didn't tolerate absentmindedness (a lesson which Adrien learned first, when he ended up sprawled across the floor). Despite his age, he was more than capable of keeping up with them, all three teenagers sweaty and exhausted by the time their personal training sessions were over.

Master Fu was hardly winded by comparison.

The last hour was a struggle, their muscles aching even as their kwami meditated on their behalf from the table. Nino suffered the worst, existing only in a pool of sweat by the end—after having collapsed when Master Fu had called an end to the lesson. It wasn't even so much that what they did was physically straining as it was the fact that Master Fu expected perfect postures and breathing practices—a certain stiffness that couldn't help but illicit sweat and exhaustion from those unfamiliar with such things. Of course, some of what they did was physically demanding as well, and would only increase with such as the days wore on.

"I'm just gonna stay down here," Nino huffed from the floor, Adrien and Marinette staring down at him as they tried to catch their own breaths. "I gotta stick around longer anyway so, like, could you give me some water?" He didn't specify who, and so Marinette crouched down and gave him the bottle she'd been holding.

He could barely lift it to his lips.

"Do I still have arms?" he asked, causing Adrien to laugh.

"Here." Taking hold of his wrist, Marinette guided it and the bottle to his lips. Nino didn't seem to care that most of it ended up dribbling down his cheeks and onto the floor.

"Thanks," he eventually replied, Marinette taking the bottle back before he could spill any more of it. "Oh, hey," he tapped her on the knee as his arm fell back to his side. "Happy Birthday, by the way."

"Oh, thanks."

"Wait, birthday?"

Both Marinette and Nino flicked their gazes to Adrien.

"It's your birthday today?" he asked, Marinette unsure what, exactly, to say. Mostly because he sounded oddly offended.

"Uh, July 9th, right?" Nino asked. "I mean, that's what Facebook said."

"Yeah, it's my birthday," Marinette confirmed.

"And you didn't tell me?" Adrien asked, still sounding affronted by the whole thing. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

Blinking, Marinette tried to come up with a reason, but ultimately didn't have one. "I don't know," she replied, shrugging. "Been kind of preoccupied and didn't think to mention it?"

"It was on Facebook, dude," Nino added, which only seemed to spur irritation through Adrien's expression.

"Well, sorry not all of us check our Facebooks religiously," he snapped, before whipping around and stalking across the room to where the kwami were still sitting around on the table. Marinette and Nino shared another look, Nino shrugging against the floor before Marinette inevitably trailed after Adrien.

Any discussion on the subject was halted, however, when Master Fu joined them.

"You both did well today," he issued. If he noticed Adrien's irritation, or had overheard their conversation, he didn't mention it. "It will get easier as the days go on, and you will see progress."

"Thank you, Master Fu," Marinette replied, bowing as she'd seen Adrien do before. He mimicked the motion beside her, saying nothing.

"Of course." Reaching down, he picked up the bag sitting there—the one Adrien and Marinette had both packed their things in. Which left Nino's sitting beside the table. "I must ask, however, that you head on out. I must get in what lessons I can, before Nino's energy leaves him completely."

From the middle of the room, Nino groaned.

"Sure thing," Marinette assured, taking the bag. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Master Fu agreed, nodding as the two turned to head for the front exit. And as they stepped out, door closing behind them, they were forced to pause together beneath the overhang.

Beyond, rain fell in heavy drops upon the street, already beginning to splash up on their shoes. Which left them with limited options.

"We can't wait it out here," Adrien said stiffly. "Master Fu doesn't want us in there."

Marinette knew perfectly well that he was avoiding eye contact on purpose, and that he was still annoyed by the birthday thing. She couldn't quite figure out why. It was just a birthday. Not like she'd expected him to know it or something. And she certainly wasn't upset about it.

"We could take the subway back," Marinette recommended. "Maybe it'd be over by the time we got back."

"Mmm."

Marinette ground her teeth in irritation. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Don't lie to my face," she snapped. Because, really, there was only about half a meter between them, and so any kind of deceit would invariably be to her face. Even if it was childish deceit. "Why are you so mad about the birthday thing?"

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" he asked again, frowning as he did.

"Because we've been a little busy lately? Because I almost forgot about it myself? Because I haven't seen you since _Tuesday_?" She may have said that last in the hopes of ruffling his fur. Just a bit. A deserving bit, she figured. "Why does it matter? You know now."

"That's not the point."

"Well, whatever your point is, don't take it out on me." Looking away, she set her focus on their backpack, rifling through the big pocket until she found the black, compact umbrella she'd shoved in it that morning. Not that an umbrella would save her socks from the wet. She hated wet socks.

"I'm not… I didn't mean to take it out on you," he muttered out. "I'm not irritated with you."

"Then what are you irritated about?" she asked, finally locating the umbrella before she closed up the bag again.

"Just… that it's your birthday and I didn't know!" he failed to explain, Marinette's silent response seeming to spur him on. "I'm just annoyed at the situation, not at you."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it's your birthday!"

"So?"

"And it's the first birthday you've had since we met! And I didn't know about it!" He turned away from her, shoulders slumping as he did. "So I couldn't get you anything…"

Marinette's defensiveness dropped away. "I didn't expect you to get me anything," she said simply, shrugging the backpack over her shoulders in the same moment. "Is that why you're upset?"

"If I'd _known_ , I would have gotten you something," he persisted.

Marinette huffed, smiling a bit as she did. "Well, it's not like I got you anything for your birthday." Reaching out, she poked his side. Not too harshly, but he flinched anyway.

"Yes you did…"

A response she hadn't anticipated. "W-What?"

"You sign everything you make, Mari," he murmured, finally glancing her way again. "Granted, it's hard to read if you don't really look, but I've seen your signature before."

Twisting the umbrella in her hands, Marinette stared down at the concrete step beneath their feet. "When did you figure it out?" she asked quietly.

"A few weeks ago," he admitted. "Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

She shrugged, despite opening her mouth to answer a second later. "You just seemed so happy when you thought it was from your father. I didn't want to ruin it."

He sighed. "Well, knowing he didn't bother to get me a birthday present wouldn't be the worst thing he's ever done," Adrien replied. "But… we barely knew each other. Why'd you get me- no." He forcefully corrected himself. "Why'd you _make_ me a birthday present? That was, like, my second week going to school."

Oh god, how did she answer that one? And how had this conversation turned so sufficiently against her?

"W-well, you were new," she started, trying to come up with any viable excuse. "And I didn't want you to feel unwelcome, so…" Was that believable? She didn't dare meet his gaze, afraid she'd give herself away. She couldn't tell him the truth—that she'd had a crush on him since his second day being in their class. A crush that had long since developed into something much, much more.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," he replied. "But seriously, how can you think so forwardly about people you barely know and then not even tell someone when it's _your_ birthday? If there's anyone in this entire city that should be demanding people know her birthday, it's you."

He'd believed it. Which gave her the courage to finally look at him again.

"I don't know. It just didn't seem important."

Adrien sighed.

Out in the street, the rain only picked up, growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

"C'mon, I doubt Master Fu would appreciate us loitering outside his door," Adrien decided.

"Where are we going? The subway?"

"Are you in a rush?"

"Well… no." They were supposed to spend time together anyway, right? And it wasn't like she wanted to hurry up and get home. In fact, she'd hoped they'd spend the rest of the afternoon together.

Not that she'd tell him that.

"Over there," he said, leaning closer to her as he pointed to a Chinese shop across the street. "It's an ice cream place. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't object to that."

Marinette smiled up at him. "Neither would I." Not after the workout they'd just had.

Reaching down, Adrien took the umbrella from her hands, before pointing it toward the street and allowing it to pop open. Wanting to avoid as much of the rain as possible, Marinette ducked close to him, wrapping both her arms around his free one as they stepped out under the umbrella.

The rain beat heavily down on the plastic above their heads, the tapping so loud that it seemed to be banging on the outsides of their skulls. Keepings close up under it, and ignoring the water that seeped up through the soles of their shoes, they jogged to the edge of the sidewalk. A few cars drove quickly by, threatening to splash them and just falling short of success. Once it was clear, they dashed quickly across the road, stepping up onto the sidewalk on the other side before darting quickly beneath the canopy at the entrance to the ice cream shop.

It was a small place, glass windows bordering the outside. The front door was open, and so Adrien shook the water from the umbrella before pulling it together, strapping it, and shoving it into the pocket of his jogger shorts.

The parlor didn't have any tables or chairs inside. Just a glass counter displaying the different flavors and concoctions, as well as a sign posted above that likely listed the available options. It was all in Chinese, however, and so Marinette couldn't read it.

Thankfully, she had Adrien for that.

She'd dropped her hold on him, but remained close as they approached the counter. An elderly, balding man worked the shop in a stained, white apron, coming up to the counter from the other side in the same moment they approached.

"Do you know what you want?" Adrien asked, glancing down at her.

"Ah…" She shrugged. "I can't read any of it."

"Yeah, but, like, a favorite flavor or something?"

"Do they have regular flavors here?" she asked, peering down into the display case as she did.

"Some." Adrien hummed thoughtfully, Marinatte glancing up just in time to watch a small smile break out across his face. "My mom and I used to do this thing where, whenever we'd get ice cream, we'd order each other's flavors, and we'd get a new one every time. It ended up being pretty gross occasionally." He chuckled, Marinette grinning just a bit herself.

But his laughter seemed to die a hollowly, until his gaze turned almost distant.

It was literally painful for her to watch, the way the smile just seemed to slip from his face.

"You order mine then," she said, speaking on the first idea that came to mind. If only to keep him from sinking further. "Something you think I'd _like_ ," she added, doing all she could to keep her tone light. "Nothing 'gross.'"

A small smirk returned to his lips. "I'd would never," he assured, bowing. "Especially on My Lady's birthday." He turned back to the menu. "How about something classic," he said after a moment. "Have you ever had Green Tea ice cream?"

"I haven't. My mom says it's good though."

"Sabine has excellent taste."

"I'd certainly hope so. She is a baker."

Adrien laughed again, before he took the final step toward the counter that would imply immanent purchase. Trailing him up, Marinette watched as he easily transitioned into Chinese, the man behind the counter visibly surprised, before they started an exchanged.

Marinette grinned to herself, enjoying the back and forth despite not being able to understand any of it. But Adrien was so confident in what he was saying, and even managed to make the clerk cough out a single laugh. It was endearing, listening to him, and she felt a familiar warmth thrumming against her heart—which was picking up in pace despite herself.

"Can I get my wallet out of the bag?" Adrien asked, startling her as he turned to her abruptly.

"Oh, sure." Hopping around, Marinette faced away from him, feeling as he rummaged around in the pack still attached to her back. "Mine's in there too," she said after a moment.

"And it can stay there," he replied. "It's your birthday. Like I'd let you buy your own ice cream."

Marinette rolled her eyes.

Once she heard the sound of the zipper again, she turned back to him, wanting to cast him a childish glare only to see that he was already preoccupied with the clerk once more. Handing his card over the counter, they spoke again, before his card was returned and he shoved his wallet into one of his front pockets.

Once again watching him, Marinette found her eyes travelling. His bright green sneakers were darkened with rain, his tanned calves—muscular and toned—splattered with drops. His jogger shorts were black, the style apparently his preferred as it was all he really wore for workout gear. Which Marinette wasn't complaining about—he pulled off the look very well. Add in his black tanktop, which revealed his muscular arms, and she was suddenly assaulted by a sense of breathlessness.

Still chatting with the clerk, he rolled his shoulders and neck, as though he were sore, before reaching up toward his ears. In one light motion, he pushed his hair behind his ears, Marinette unsure why her heart caught in her throat.

Those blonde locks really were getting long, easily staying in place as he'd directed. Yet, despite their length, he pulled the look off flawlessly, Marinette watching as one strand fell loose and skimmed his temple.

She quickly decided the parlor was way too hot to be housing ice cream.

Forcing herself to look away, she was only aware out of the corner of her eyes as two ice cream cones were handed over the counter to Adrien. He shared a few more words with the clerk, before he turned toward her.

"Green Tea for the Lady," he said, Marinette forcing herself to be calm as she looked at him again.

"What did you get?" she asked, thankful for the distraction as she took her cone filled with green ice cream. Adrien's pick was a grayish-black color—a shade of ice cream Marinette had never seen before.

"Black Sesame," he replied, shrugging as they headed out the front door again. It was still raining, and so they remained beneath the awning, skirting over to the right corner. They stood before the glass windows of the parlor, Marinette taking her first lick of ice cream as a single dribble threatened to drip down her cone.

"So?" Adrien asked a second later.

"It's good," she decided. "Like… tea. But mintier." She licked it again, more slowly, eyes flicking up to Adrien when he didn't offer a response to her evaluation. He wasn't doing anything, actually, his own ice cream held uselessly in his hand as he watched her.

He said nothing—only blinked those big green eyes.

Tongue tingling with cold and foreign flavor, Marinette pulled her ice cream back, licking away what little had dappled off and spotted her upper lip—before sliding her tongue habitually back across the bottoms of her teeth.

Mouth still somewhat parted, she kept Adrien's gaze, hyperaware of the way he swallowed hard beside her.

Abruptly, and causing them both to jump, the compact umbrella in Adrien's pocket sprung loose. It was safely strapped, and so only the handle snapped forth, bolting from his pocket before it wavered out in front of him—a thin, metal pole topped with a bulbous knob.

Eyes wide, they both stared at it for a few seconds, before Adrien seemed to shake himself from his surprise. Reaching out, he forcefully sheathed the handle back into his pant's pocket, before clearing his throat and finally taking a lick of his own ice cream.

Marinette took a deep breath. "What's yours taste like?" she asked after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"Your ice cream," she specified. "What's it taste like?"

"Oh. Uh, like…" Adrien furrowed his eyebrows, staring down at his treat critically. "I dunno. It's kind of hard to explain. It tastes, just, kind of… burnt? Almost?" Marinette cocked a skeptical brow—because that didn't sound like good ice cream to her. "Here." He held it out toward her. "You can taste it if you want."

Shrugging, Marinette leaned forward, uncertain what to expect of the strange looking ice cream and so braced herself as she held her own cone back out of the way. As she dragged her tongue over the untouched side Adrien had offered her, she was assaulted by a much deeper flavor than she would have expected. Not bitter, but somehow burnt, as he'd described. Roasted, almost. If ice cream could taste roasted.

And while her taste buds were taking that all in, her ears registered just a quick intake of breath. Glancing up, she caught Adrien's eyes again, licking her bottom lip as she pulled back, before biting it curiously.

He was giving her a very weird look. She couldn't quite place what it was, his expression. Somehow tight, yet open, and almost…

"… hungry?"

"What?" Marinette snapped, blinking back to reality. She'd been so distracted dissecting his expression that she'd failed to notice when it'd changed. Instead, she was faced once again with one of those amused grins.

"I said," he repeated. "Are you not hungry? Your ice cream is going to melt."

"Oh." Shaking her head stupidly, she focused back in on her own ice cream, aware of the way Adrien licked again at his beside her. "Did you want any of mine?" she asked suddenly.

"Why? Don't you like it?"

"No, I do," she corrected. "But you let me taste yours."

"I've had Green Tea ice cream before," he practically objected.

"Ugh, fine, don't," she said, about to pull the ice cream back in for herself.

But he reached out and took her wrist, holding her ice cream steady. "I didn't say I wouldn't have any," he clarified. Leaning down, he went to take a lick of the green sweet, but apparently she hadn't been keeping up with it well enough. It'd melted to the point of becoming slippery, and as Adrien took a taste, the whole top scoop slid.

It plopped to the sidewalk before either of them could stop it, Adrien's tongue still hanging out of his mouth as they stared down at the mess.

Marinette had gaped in surprise, before she gathered herself enough to turn on him with a glare. "Look what you did!" she accused.

He snapped his green-stained tongue back into his mouth, before cringing. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, before shrugging far too innocently. "Five second rule?"

Marinette's expression turned flat and unamused, which only caused him to laugh.

"I'll buy you another one, Birthday Girl," he offered.

"No, I don't want another one," she decided stubbornly, turning haughtily away from him. "You ruined it. A girl only turns sixteen once and you've now messed up everything beyond repair."

"My sincerest apologies, My Lady," he replied, not sounding the least bit sincere. "Allow me to get you another and make things right."

"Nope," she replied. "That was the perfect ice cream cone. Nothing could ever compare."

"Well, I mean," he shrugged, "it's still there, if you want to lick it up off the sidewalk."

She whipped around on him. "Did you just suggest I lick ice cream off the sidewalk?" she asked incredulously, struggling considerably with keeping the smile off her face.

"You said it was the perfect cone. If that's the case, you can't let it go to waste."

"It's _dirty_ now," she rebuked. It was also melting into a green puddle, but that was quite beside the point. "You made my ice cream dirty, and now you want me to lick it off the sidewalk. On my birthday."

"You're not exactly giving me a whole lot of options here, Bugaboo." Shifting his weight from one hip to another, he pulled his own cone to his lips and took a lick.

Marinette narrowed her eyes up at him. "I want yours," she finally decided. "Give it to me." She held out her free hand.

"Wha- No!" He shied back. "You can't have my ice cream! It's _mine_!"

"It's _my_ birthday."

He was smiling, despite leaning away from her. "I don't care."

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

"Right now!"

"Get over yourself!"

"Adrien Noir Agreste, give me your ice cream."

"Noir is _not_ my middle name."

But she didn't care. Stepping toward him, she reached out to forcefully seize the cone for herself. Flinching away, Adrien held the ice cream up above his head, trying to keep it out of her reach. But she'd already dropped what remained of her own to the sidewalk, which gave her a two-hand advantage. Grabbing his upper arm, she forcefully tugged it down, Adrien trying to push her back for only a moment, before he changed tactics.

Reaching across, he transferred the ice cream into his other hand, holding it away as he then grabbed her by the shoulder and held her at bay. She'd turned her attention to his other hand, obviously, and wouldn't be kept at a distance very long. Yet, the time it took her to transfer her position from one side to the other was more than enough for him.

Leaning his neck awkwardly out away from her, he pulled the ice cream to his lips and hastily, almost manically, began licking it all over. His actions caused Marinette to growl, but his slobbering wouldn't deter her. Even as his tongue smoothed the ice cream and marked every bit of it as his own, she pushed onward.

She wouldn't be defeated so easily.

He seemed to be under the impression that his show of zoning would keep her at bay, and so didn't fortify further defenses. With the ice cream held so low, she easily grabbed his wrist and yanked it lower. Until she was effortlessly able to take the advantage.

In one swift attack, she leaned in and chomped down on the entire top of the scoop, taking a generous chunk all for herself.

Adrien, in turn, gaped, and looked wholly too offended.

Unable to hold back her smirk, she leaned back away, quite satisfied with the large portion that was now gapingly missing from his ice cream.

Swallowing her plunder, she then licked around her lips to get what hadn't made it into her mouth, her smugness only increasing tenfold when he snapped his mouth into a thin, severe line.

"Mine now," she taunted.

He glared, Marinette reaching up and coyly wiping some ice cream from the corner of her lips.

Which was when he leaned in.

She wasn't at all prepared for the surprise attack, and so was left gasping and wide-eyed with shock as his tongue skimmed the tip of her nose. The wet sensation sent a shiver through her whole body, causing her shoulders to stiffen as she registered the spot of ice cream that had previously been on her nose leave with his unexpected touch.

Blinking, her whole world came to a dizzying standstill, his face close as he flicked his tongue back between his lips. She watched it, before her focus flitted up to those green eyes. Still so near.

But retreating. And with each hair of distance he put between them, time seemed to speed back up, even if Marinette was still gaping in total disbelief.

Had he just… Had he just _licked her_?

The notion was just so beyond her that her entire brain was nothing but disconnected sounds of distress. Because how else could she possibly react? What did this mean? Why would he lick her? Did she like that he'd licked her?

Adrien Agreste had _licked her_!

There was no way to process that information!

Until one motion, and one sound, rocked her world back into place.

Completely unaware of the deep flush that was blossoming across Adrien's own cheeks, Marinette watched as he held his free hand up near his chin, fingers curled in a paw-like fashion. Then, like a bell dinging in her ears and waking her up, he opened his mouth-

And meowed.

She sobered quickly.

"You disgusting cat," she muttered out, ignoring the flaming redness that was still ablaze from her neck up (he didn't look much better, but she wasn't going to think about that. She probably wouldn't survive such thoughts). "What's wrong with you?"

Moving his paw in a batting type motion beside his chin, he meowed again.

Reaching out—without breaking eye contact or shifting her flat expression—she pulled her hand back and, in a smooth arc, knocked her knuckles into his ice cream cone.

The whole thing flopped to the sidewalk, causing Adrien to inhale sharply.

"Mari!" he hissed out.

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "You deserve it."

Lips pooching, he hunched some, pouting as he stared at the cone sitting upside-down on the sidewalk. The scene eventually drew Marinette's attention as well, the symmetry of his recent fatality beside her melted one keeping them both somberly silent for some moments.

"This is a very unfortunate situation," Adrien finally decided.

"Indeed."

Truer words had never been spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very tired. Sorry if there are a lot of mistakes. 
> 
> ``````ALSO! I want to apologize to you guys for no longer replying to reviews. I swear I read and love and generally giggle at every single one, and they're all so inspiring, but... there are a lot these days and I just can't keep up with responding. Each one really is so inspiring to me, so please, please continue to leave them, as they really make my day and keep me going even when I'm struggling with a chapter. But I just can't keep up on replying--it'd be all I did if I tried, lol, and I'd never actually be able to write a new chapter XD So if anyone has a specific question for me or anything, please send me a message on tumblr. I'll be more likely to be able to get back to you there. Again, please don't stop leaving all your wonderful words. I do read every single review and cherish each one :)```````
> 
> BACK TO BUSINESS!
> 
> Adrien didn't make your ice cream dirty, Mari. I did :3
> 
> This chapter was originally supposed to be longer--with them walking back and "talking" about serious topics from earlier in the chapter. But I pushed that to the beginning of the next chapter. Cuz it's long already. 
> 
> Also, if anyone comes at me complaining about how Adrien treated Gabe the Babe in the beginning of the chapter, I'ma point out to you all the developement he's gone through in part one. And point out that you shouldn't shame someone who finally realizes they're in an abusive relationship and wants out. He found his clarity in Mari and I think that's beautiful. Fight me. 
> 
> Gabe the Babe... why you do dis... *sighs*
> 
> Also, VOLPINA! GTFO! This can't end well...


	13. Part Two - Paved With Good Intentions

Their second attempt at ice cream eating was far more successful than the first. Following their unfortunate mishaps with the initial two cones, Adrien had repurchased for them both, the clerk working the shop appearing quite disappointed in their previous behavior (as he'd been able to see them through the window).

As it was, the rain had let up to only a sprinkle and they'd been walking for some twenty minutes, comfortably quiet as they licked their respective cones. Marinette turned to look up at Adrien occasionally, initially allowing her thoughts to run rampant and unchecked as the tip of her nose seemingly burned with the echo of his tongue. Yet, the shock did eventually fade, which allowed her mind to be cleared for other, more coherent considerations.

Namely, what she'd been wanting to ask him about all day.

No, longer than that. Since Tuesday night. She wasn't sure why the feeling nagged at her, but she was positive something had happened. Yet, he'd been so busy with Haute Couture that he'd barely had time for texting, let alone to give much attention to any interrogations Marinette may have tried to instigate.

Even as she watched him then, she could tell he was relatively distracted. Though he licked his ice cream regularly and flicked his own attention to her every once in a while, she could read it… somehow.

Maybe she was just getting to know him better, and so could pinpoint these things. No matter, she didn't feel she was taking a risk in assuming something was up.

"Adrien," she said, once she'd swallowed the last bit of her cone. His head twitched in her direction, eyebrows raised questioningly as he shoved the final piece of his own cone between his lips. "What's up with you?"

"Whah?" he said around his mouthful of ice cream, before swallowing. "What do you mean?"

Marinette narrowed her eyes just a bit. "I know something's bothering you." Her accusation, had it been false, should have been followed by confusion. But, instead, Adrien's whole expression froze, before he glanced purposefully away.

She'd seen such behavior out of him before—when he didn't want to talk about something serious. When he was avoiding her in plain sight. Like a mask was simply snapped across his face, portraying nothing. And not nothing as though he were simply lacking opinion on the subject. Rather, it was like he was lacking expression altogether.

A purposeful emptiness—something she's seen him adopt when his father was the problem.

"Is there something wrong?" she continued, a few cars honking in the street beside them. But it was easy enough to ignore. "Did you and your father fight again?"

The way he barely looked at her—as if he'd done so accidentally—before glancing away again told her far more than he'd probably intended. Coming to a halt, Marinette stood firmly in place, until her position demanded he also stop to look back at her.

He sighed, that mask evaporating as he did. "You don't really want to hear about my drama with my father, do you?"

"If you need someone to talk to about it, then yes," she confirmed, taking up the short distance between them, until she could reach out and gently touch his arm. "I can tell it's bothering you. And I know that maybe talking about it won't change anything, but it might make you feel better. I know I can't do anything about it, but I can listen if you want me to." That was really all she _could_ do, and it didn't seem near enough to her. But it was something, and perhaps something was better than nothing.

Adrien craned his neck around, looking to the side anxiously. She could see he was tense, distressed even, and so she allowed her hand to drag down his arm. Until she could gently wrap her fingers around his own, a motion that pulled his focus back her way.

"Why do you want to hear about this kind of stuff?" he asked quietly, shoulders slumping. "It's the same as always."

"Because I'm your friend," she claimed easily. "And because I-"

_I love you._

No, she couldn't say it.

"Because I care about you, Adrien," she finished.

He looked even more defeated following, Marinette squeezing his hand a little tighter, before looking beyond the fence to their right. Gently, yet sternly, she began to walk ahead a ways, tugging him along. Until they reached the break in the fence, which opened up into a small playground.

It was completely deserted, thanks to the rain. Still holding his hand in hers, Marinette led them out across the cracking concrete, which was stained and chipped from years of use. The playground was in no way neglected, but well-loved, and so the wooden play stations were discolored, and the plastic slides faded. But it all appeared in working order.

Marinette aimed for the swing set in the back, which was cushioned beneath with woodchips. The metal supports had flaking paint, but weren't rusted, and the chains didn't squeak as she finally released Adrien's hand and sat down on the swing to the far left.

Body swaying lightly, she remained resolutely looking at him. He was standing before her, still with a hunched look about him, and appeared anything but comfortable. Still, Marinette remained steadfast. Until, finally, he sighed and plopped down on the swing beside her own.

"It's nothing new," he muttered, scuffing the tip of his shoe against the woodchips. "And there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"You sound like a broken record," Marinette replied, sliding her swing sideways before bumping him gently. "I don't care if there's nothing to be done about it. Just because a problem lacks a solution doesn't mean you should have to deal with it on your own."

He was watching her, eyes following the way her swing pulled her side-to-side. "I guess I just figure there's no point in making someone else worry about it."

"You're not 'making' me do anything," she replied, coming to an abrupt halt as her shoes twisted against the chips below. "I want to know, Adrien. You can tell me anything and I promise I'll listen. I think it'll be better for you. It's not good to keep that kind of stuff bottled up."

"So I've heard." He sighed, staring out across the playground. "We were just fighting about me being… you know. Again. He wanted me to go abroad for the summer and I refused, and it just… escalated from there." He shrugged, continuing to dig at the woodchips.

"He's not going to force you abroad, is he?" Marinette asked.

He scoffed. "He can't force me to do anything," Adrien said simply, his flippant tone causing Marinette to frown. He glanced up at her shortly after, taking in her expression before releasing an exasperated sigh. "This is why I didn't want to talk about it."

"What?"

"I can tell what you're thinking," he replied, words clipped.

"No you can't," she rebuked. "I'm not 'thinking' anything. I'm just concerned."

"My father's not a threat to us."

"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about _you_." A statement that apparently left him with little to say, his fingers wrapping around the swing chains as he swiveled in place. "I know this is bothering you, Adrien. Yet you keep pretending like it's not. Don't make me force it out of you."

"I just told you what happened," he snapped.

"You didn't."

Silence.

Until he huffed. "He basically said that Chat Noir is useless and that you'd be just fine without me," he finally admitted, kicking some of the woodchips as he did. "And I told him that he needed to keep his nose out of my business, because he had no right to say anything about what I've been doing."

Marinette listened intently, her focus totally on him.

"You have to understand that things between him and me have never… Since my mom disappeared, he's barely been a father to me. I spent a majority of the last few years completely alone, shut up in that stupid house like some kind of… prisoner. And I get that he thinks he was trying to keep me safe, but that doesn't justify…

"It doesn't make what he did okay."

Marinette swallowed, trying to process what he said as best she could—despite the fact that there was no way she could ever relate.

"He's just always…" Adrien closed his eyes, seeming to grow only smaller as he leaned his head against the swing chain. "It's stupid, okay?"

"Why is it stupid?" Marinette asked, keeping her tone soft. She could tell he was frustrated, and not simply with her, as he had been previously.

"Because my life isn't that bad," he muttered. "A lot of other people have it worse, and my father is a jerk, and it doesn't matter." His eyes shifted her way. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

Marinette pursed her lips, but only because she felt so powerless to help him. "Other people have other problems," she reasoned, "but that doesn't make yours stupid, or any less significant. We all have problems, Adrien. And no matter what they are, you shouldn't be… ashamed to talk about them."

"I'm not-" He took a deep breath, before finally turning to face her fully. His green eyes were sad, desperate even, and made Marinette deflate alongside him. "Please, Mari," he whispered. "Don't make me talk about this anymore, okay?" There was so much pain there—in his voice and expression. And Marinette wanted to know so badly where it came from. She knew his relationship with his father was hard, but she didn't know the details. She didn't know why. Not exactly.

But he was asking her— _honestly_ asking her—to let it go. He wasn't avoiding the subject, or pretending it didn't exist. And so perhaps it really wasn't her place to keep pushing. It wasn't an issue of him not wanting her to know, or of trying to hide it. He simply didn't want to talk about it. His argument was always that talking about it wouldn't change anything, which, perhaps, was true—even if sharing with someone else sometimes helped one feel better. But maybe whatever had happened between him and his father was still too raw. Like poking at a wound that was barely scabbed over.

Leaving it alone might be better for now.

Marinette wanted to know—she wanted to understand. But she had the feeling that, as he was then, making him open up might do more bad than good. Like it was too soon. Or too much. And it'd only be selfishness that spurred her if she continued to ask. Her own curiosity—no matter how concerned she was—didn't justify persistence. Not when he'd asked her so sincerely to drop the subject.

She'd pushed him once before and, maybe then, that'd been what he'd needed. But people needed different things at different times. In that moment, perhaps what he needed was to simply think about something else.

He knew he could tell her, that he could trust her. They'd become close enough for that certainty to exist between them. Even if nothing else in their world was as definitive.

Though Marinette had kept her eyes focused on Adrien during the silence that had followed his plea, he'd glanced away, appearing guilty as he had. Which only put Marinette's heart further out to him. She didn't want him to feel guilty for being unable to deliver something she'd asked of him. Sometimes it wasn't a matter of faith or closeness. Sometimes things were just hard to say.

She'd begun to learn such things for herself as of late.

"Hey," she started, bumping her swing into his again. He glanced her way immediately, appearing guardedly on edge, but also relatively defeated. As though, if she did ask, he _would_ explain further—if only out of obligation. But she wouldn't abuse their relationship that way. She wouldn't abuse his _trust_ that way. "I bet I can jump further off this swing than you can."

The look of relief that broke out across his face, as well as that smile, was more than enough to satisfy her.

"I'll take that bet," he replied. "What does the winner get?" They'd both kicked off the ground, woodchips flicking out before them as they began to pump their legs.

"Well, what do you want if you win?" she asked, having to speak loudly as they gradually increased in height. Watching the way he swung beside her, Marinette stretched and retracted her legs with his own, if only to keep them equally beside one another as they swung. His eyes were on her as well, and she wondered if he was doing the same thing.

"I'll tell you after I win," he decided.

"I guess I'll never know then!" She laughed.

"You two would do good to remember that you're not protected from physical harm as civilians," Tikki interjected, flitting up onto Marinette's shoulder as they swung higher. Until they were almost able to reach the level of the horizontal support from which the swings hung.

Neither of them heeded Tikki's warning.

"When are we gonna jump?!" Adrien yelled over to her, the wind whipping their hair as they pitched back and forth through the air.

"On three!" she replied as they fell backward and up.

"On three!" Adrien agreed.

They counted "one" as they rocked forward, then "two" on the rise back. And called "three" as they hit the forward arc at the top.

Flinging themselves from the seats, they both thrust themselves as far as they could, toes pointed out as the woodchips came up fast. Of course, they were used to simply tossing their bodies around from one height to another. And, all things considered, this wasn't really that far a jump in comparison to previous. But Tikki was right, they were merely civilians. And so no amount of forward thinking could stop their legs from buckling under them as they landed.

Feet slamming into the woodchips, Marinette's whole body seemed to collapse in on top of her. Like a heavy weight had been dropped atop her shoulders, she crumpled, falling to her knees within moments of landing.

Adrien, on the other hand, stumbled beside her, fumbling forward before ultimately tripping. Arms flailing, he landed face-first in the woodchips.

Snorting a laugh, Marinette finally finished her landing on her hands and knees, giggling as Adrien groaned into the ground.

"Tikki tried to warn you," Plagg stated, fluttering between them.

"Who won?" Marinette asked, peering up at Plagg for an answer.

"Um, clearly I did," Adrien decided, having turned his cheek on the woodchips in order to look back at her. Neither Plagg nor Tikki contributed any helpful information to the situation, and so Marinette was forced to rebuke with only her wits.

"I'm pretty sure falling on your face doesn't count as an advantage," she said smartly, reaching up and poking the bottom of Adrien's shoe while she did.

"I'm farther than you, aren't I?"

"You landed beside me," she rebuked, crawling on her hands and knees across the woodchips. Until she was right up beside him. He didn't pick his head up from the ground, instead frowning up at her as she reached out to him. Smiling a bit to herself, she picked away a few of the chips that were still stuck to his face—no doubt from his landing.

"You know I won." He pouted.

"I don't know any such thing," she replied, wiping a bit of dirt from his cheek before she slid some of his loose hair behind his ear. "And your word is hardly worth taking at face value. As far as I'm concerned, I won."

She was just about to pull her hand back, but before she could, he'd swiftly reached up and grabbed her wrist. She didn't have the time to react. Instead, she was yanked to the side as he rolled onto his back, squeaking as she tumbled on top of him. Chest to chest, with Marinette's legs sprawled out to his side, they paused in a heap, her wrist still held firmly within his grasp.

They stared at one another, Marinette blinking in delayed surprise as she pressed her free hand against his chest, attempting to hold herself up away from him and only really succeeding in craning her neck back. He remained silent as well, appearing just as shocked by their position as she was—despite the fact that he'd instigated it.

Until his eyes narrowed, that sly look pushing back on Marinette's blush before it had the time to manifest across her face.

"I won fair and square," he claimed, Marinette sighing dramatically as she allowed herself to slump atop him. Though he still held one of her wrists, her other hand was available if she allowed her full weight to sink down atop him, and so she did. Before she put her focus on his shirt, and in flicking away the woodchips that stuck across the fabric.

"I'm failing to see any concrete proof of such a victory," she said simply. "Say whatever you want, that doesn't mean I'm convinced."

Dropping her wrist, his arms fell down at his sides, a groan escaping his lips as any remaining tension left his body. Turning a bit onto her side, Marinette ignored his complaining, instead propping her head in her hand as she turned a bit on her side. Her arm was propped on his chest, the slight change in position atop him giving her a better view of the numerous woodchips still sticking to his tank-top. Pretending to be quite focused on removing them, she instead found herself watching the way his chest rose and fell, and how her whole body moved with it.

Every time she picked a chip out of his shirt, her fingertips brushed the muscled hardness beneath, gradually causing her neck to heat up. Until the warmth was spreading higher and higher. Yet, instead of removing herself from his person as she should have, she simply allowed her ministrations to continue. As if that was going to give her any way of retaining her composure.

"What about our winnings?" Adrien asked after a moment, his voice causing Marinette's gaze to dart back up to his own.

"Well," she took a short breath, shoving her excited nerves back in the same moment, "I suppose neither of us wins."

"That's hardly any fun," Adrien replied, his finger coming up and poking her on the nose. "Why have the glass half-empty, Bugaboo?"

"What do you propose then?" she asked, only aware of his travelling hand out of the corner of her eyes. Until it landed gently, almost hesitantly, to the side and atop her leg. His fingers were light, warm, and gradually hooked behind her knee. He didn't grip tightly, or use her as an anchor. Rather, he simply allowed his hold to rest there. It took all of Marinette's self-control not to look over, leaving her staring almost too intently back at him.

"If neither of us can decide," he said quietly, "why don't we simply agree that we both won?"

"Glass half full," she replied, smirking a bit as she did.

He was more than able to grin in return.

"So what do we win?" she asked.

"One question," he decided quickly, before clearing his throat. "That is, one question for each of us. The other person has to answer honestly. Fair?"

Marinette's heart dared to somersault in her chest, as though warning her against how bad of an idea this was. And so she redirected her thoughts, trying to steer clear of what she knew was unsafe. Yet, she also realized what he proposed wasn't meant to be taken lightly. She couldn't simply ask him anything. So long as she stayed away from subjects previously dropped, then he was giving her the opportunity to ask him anything. And get an answer. She was wary of what he'd ask her, but more so of the words that would slip from her own mouth.

And so she tried to avoid the heated thoughts that caused her heart to pump fast in her chest. Instead, she focused intently on everything about him but the way his whole body shifted beneath her own, and how his thumb rubbed light circles over the top of her knee.

"Okay," she ultimately agreed. "But you don't have to answer mine if you don't want to."

"It's part of the deal that I do."

"I know." She glanced down at his shirt. "But you still don't have to answer if you don't want to." She knew there were certain subjects he didn't want to talk about. She wouldn't ask of those she knew, but there was a chance that the direction her thoughts were going would also be off-limits. Yet, it was better than letting her head roll down the corridors leading to notions she wasn't sure she was collected enough, or confident enough, to broach with him.

"You're making me nervous," he admitted, laughing a bit as he did. The sound was hollow, however. Cautious. And Marinette felt sorry for bringing that on him.

She glanced back up, eyebrows furrowing just a bit as she did. "I was wondering…" she started slowly. "What… What happened to your mother?"

Her inquiry clearly took him by surprise, his brows shooting up as an initial response. She wasn't sure what he'd been expecting her to ask, but clearly that hadn't been it.

"I'm sorry," she said almost immediately. "I don't mean to pry." She simply wanted to know more about him. Not that she felt as though she _didn't_ know him, but more concrete details would be helpful.

"It's fine," he said after a moment. "I'm afraid you may have wasted your question though." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he did. "Nobody knows what happened to her," he eventually explained. "I just remember waking up and… and the police being there. And my father was talking to them, and I was looking for her. But she wasn't there. And no matter how many times I asked where she was, nobody would tell me. It wasn't until I was questioned that I realized she was gone. That she was missing.

"I still remember the night before—being with her. Father'd been busy, so she'd ordered dinner from the cheap Chinese place nearby. That was kind of like a tradition when he was busy. Our secret. Because my father's always been a stickler about proper meals and a healthy diet. But we stayed up that night eating fake Chinese, watching all these ridiculous documentaries about bees. I don't remember why we chose to watch them, but I know we did.

"I fell asleep sometime before we finished. The next morning, I woke up in bed. And she was gone." He shrugged against the ground. "And that was it."

"The police didn't find anything?" Marinette asked quietly.

"Nope. But there was a note. She'd left it on the banister, where she always left notes when she went out. Something about… getting her hair cut. Normal stuff. And she just… never came back."

Marinette didn't know what to say. Not that she'd expected she would. But she couldn't imagine what that was like, not just losing someone so important, but not knowing how or why. It must have been terrible. Probably still was.

She didn't get it, why someone like Adrien had to go through so much. From the outside, his life looked perfect, but she was really beginning to see that such assumptions were nowhere near the truth. He hadn't deserved to lose his mother, or be treated by his father as he was. Not someone like him—so willing to do so much for others.

It physically pained her, just to consider the agony he'd gone through, and was still going through. She couldn't even fathom it, let alone somehow live with it day in and day out.

"But hey," he interjected softly, pulling her back from her reflections. "That was two questions."

She smiled. "I guess it was. You can have two, if you want."

"I've only got one."

"Then I'll do my best to answer it."

But he didn't ask right away. Instead, head cocking a bit to the side, he stared thoughtfully up at her. Marinette didn't know what to make of his overly attentive expression. As far as she knew, she was a pretty open book. And so she couldn't fathom what he'd have to ask her that wouldn't already be obvious.

Yet, she was self-conscious, unable to hide the slight flush that blossomed across her cheeks.

"Mari?" he started after a few moments of long, drawn out silence. The sound of his voice, though so familiar, caught her breath in her throat.

His hand tightened around her knee.

"Yes?" she asked, tone breathless.

His brows knit together just a bit. "Can I…?" He visibly swallowed, Marinette watching the way his Adam's apple bobbed, before a slight flush only lightly stained his own cheeks.

"Can you?" she asked, unaware of the way she leaned a little lower, a little closer.

He bit his bottom lip, gaze searching her own as he propped himself up on his available elbow. He leaned up just enough—until they were so close that their breaths intermingled, and Marinette could see the light, golden flecks in his eyes.

She heard his breath shake, and knew hers was much the same.

"I just wanted…" His voice was but a murmur, and Marinette swore his focus flicked to her lips, before bouncing back. The idea that he was thinking about the same things that were flitting through her thoughts was so dizzying that it was only his gaze that held her in place. "I was wondering if- That is, if you'd be okay with-"

" _Yes_?" she asked again.

"I just…" He leaned slightly closer, Marinette certain their noses brushed. "That is, can I…"

_Could he…?_

"Can I k-"

The high-pitched scream of a child jolted them both violently from the moment. Heads whipping around, they watched as a parade of children—herded by a single, exhausted looking woman—came rushing loudly onto the playground.

And just like that, the heat that had gradually formed between them went cold, Marinette abruptly embarrassed by her position. Face red for entirely different reasons, she pushed herself off of him, sitting up and looking away as she did.

As swiftly as the certainty had existed, she was caught by the opposite. Her mind wanted to complete his question, but she had no way of knowing, absolutely, what he'd been about to say. And so that left room for doubt to flow through her. They'd leaned in so close, and she'd thought, for only a second, that _something_ would happen.

But that had been dashed so violently that she wasn't even sure it was safe to believe in her own memory. Only seconds had passed and, yet, the moment was fading fast. Cheated away from her too swiftly to catch. It left her abruptly downed, deflated, anxious, and with a heavy weight in her chest. A weight that squeezed with so much pressure that it was almost painful.

Though she didn't look at him, she knew Adrien was sitting up beside her. She could hear the way he'd shifted, and how his breath caught while he gulped. Yet, she dared not look his way. Was she afraid of what she'd see if she did? She wasn't sure.

Perhaps the real fear was what she might not see.

Around them, children scattered, running and screaming in all directions. It brought them back to earth, the reality sitting, bloated, between them seeming a far stretch from where they'd just been.

A popped bubble. Or, perhaps, a cloud swept under the rug.

"I, um…" Adrien's voice nearly caused her to jump, Marinette's head twitching just a bit to the side—to listen. She still didn't dare look up at him. "There is something I need to talk to you about." The change in his tone told her that, whatever had just happened between them, he wasn't addressing it. He was moving on, forcefully even, and Marinette felt her heart squeeze only tighter.

Were they moving on like nothing had happened? Was that the truth? Had there been nothing?

How was it possible that she'd been there, so near to him, so close, and yet it felt like a dream? Like something only her imagination could have conjured up?

"Something… something else happened on Tuesday." Something other than his conflict with his father. "I, ah, I was going to tell you. Today. I just… wanted to do it in person."

Like a puddle in the sun, the previous mood evaporated. Suddenly, it was safe for her to look up at him—to remember that there was more to their realities than insecurity.

The heat, the anticipation… It was completely gone.

"That sounds ominous," Marinette replied, thankful her voice didn't retain any of the weakness it'd had previously. Her shields were up, her feelings subdued. Like always.

"You could… say that," Adrien agreed, turning to meet her gaze. That open rawness was no more. He wasn't masked—it wasn't that. Rather, he was focused. Like the elephant was simply standing in the room next door, and so neither of them had reason to acknowledge it. "I had a visitor."

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. "A visitor? Who?"

He pursed his lips, pausing for just a moment before he answered.

"Volpina."

It took her a moment to really digest what he said. And even then, she didn't understand it. "What?"

A few of the kids rushed by them to the swings, both Marinette and Adrien watching them only shortly, before refocusing back on one another.

"Volpina," Adrien repeated, quieter this time. "She came to see me on Tuesday."

"To 'see' you?" She was skeptical, obviously.

"To see Adrien," he explained. "I walked into my bedroom and she was there. She'd come in the window. That was how I knew she was around, and why I told you guys to stay inside."

"You said you'd spotted her," Marinette corrected, her nerves beginning to spike for a whole plethora of other reasons. "I thought that meant in passing, or… or something! Not that she'd been in your _house_!" Though her tone was fierce, she was still conscious of keeping her voice down. "Are you telling me you spoke to her as a civilian?"

"I didn't exactly have a choice," Adrien replied. "She was standing in my bedroom when I walked in. I kind of just had to make the best of the situation."

"Why was she there?"

Adrien's gaze flicked away, which didn't bode well.

"Adrien…"

"She was there for the same reasons she'd come to see me before," he went on. "Because she's…"

"Interested in you," Marinette finished.

Adrien nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything until now?" she asked a second later. "And why didn't you tell us then? You could have sent a text and one of us, Nino or I, would have been there."

"What good would that have done?" he asked, words even softer than before. "None of us were, _are_ , ready to deal with her. There was no point in confronting her. It wouldn't have ended well for any of us."

"So you decided it was a better idea to deal with her _by_ _yourself_?" she hissed out, honestly shocked that he'd be so foolish. "As a _civilian_?"

"She wasn't there to hurt me," he defended.

"That doesn't matter!" Her voice got a little louder, drawing in some looks from a few of the kids, and so she took a deep breath to steady herself. "She's dangerous, Adrien. You should have said something."

"It wasn't exactly an option. I couldn't pull out my phone and text in the middle of talking to her. And by the time I sent that warning to both of you, she was gone."

"You could have found an excuse to get away, if only for a few moments," she reasoned, voice sharp despite its quiet. "You should have texted me!"

"And what would that have accomplished?" he snapped back, gaze hard. "What would you have done?"

"What do you mean? You know-"

"I do know," he interrupted. "You'd have come barreling in and put us both in more danger."

"Excuse me?!"

"Don't try and deny it, Mari," he muttered, though he looked somewhat apologetic as he did. "We both know you hate liars, and as soon as you'd have heard what she was saying, you'd have been in there. And neither of us are ready to deal with her."

Marinette was offended, though she wasn't exactly sure why. "Do you have so little confidence in me?"

"I have the highest confidence in you," he replied, getting sharp again, "but I also have experience. And every time someone lies to your face, or about you, or in some way that you think is interfering, you lose all your patience. There was no point in you being there. You or Nino. You'd only have made things worse."

She was gaping, beyond insulted by his implications. "What are you saying?" she asked. "That I'm… too emotional? That I'm out of control?"

"No, Mari, I'm not saying any of that," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't accuse me of things you know I'd never think of you."

"You're the one who said it!"

"I pointed out a weakness you have, just as I have my own. You can't blame me for acknowledging that kind of thing when it could put us both in danger. The last time Lila said anything about you, you burst in and lost it on her. And I get that she was lying, and I realize you hate that, but I couldn't risk that kind of outburst again."

Marinette was, honestly, speechless. Because she knew she'd screwed up that day, and she knew that, to a certain extent, Adrien was right. How many times had she lost her patience with Chloe? What would he even say if he knew how she'd acted with Papier Machette? Granted, she didn't particularly regret what she'd said, but she'd still lost her temper. And maybe that was what made it feel so much worse. Because he was _right_ , and her first thoughts upon hearing about Volpina had been that—of he'd texted her—she could have been there. She could have rushed in, feeling the same fear she did even as he told her.

"Mari, listen." Adrien turned to face her, reaching out and laying a hand on her arm. "I'm not trying to hide things from you, or be… mean. Or anything. Just, at the time when she was there, it didn't seem like a good idea to get you or Nino involved. He doesn't have the experience and you… She wasn't there to hurt me. And I dealt with it.

"I don't think you're emotional, or out of control. You're one of the most intelligent, levelheaded, thoughtful people I've ever met. You wouldn't be Ladybug if you weren't. But we all have our buttons and I know, first hand, what it's like to press yours." Focus falling to the woodchips below them, Marinette's jaw tightened, despite how he rubbed his thumb in comfortingly circles on her arm. "And even if I had contacted you, it wouldn't have done any good. I knew it'd only upset you. She got what she wanted and left."

This drew Marinette's attention back his way. "What she wanted?" she asked quietly. "What did she want?" And what did she get? Marinette knew perfectly well what Volpina had "wanted" the last time she'd dropped in to see Adrien. When she'd been spinning her lies and trying to manipulate him into…

She didn't even want to think about it, but the knot in her gut was telling her that she might not have any other choice.

Adrien took a deep breath, before moving his hands to grip at both of her own. "Just hear me out, okay?" he started, which only put Marinette further on guard. "You said it yourself that this might be a fight better fought off the battlefield. This is a chance to do that."

"What chance?" She knew where this was going. But she was trying desperately to hold on to any notion otherwise.

"If I can get her to trust me," he murmured, squeezing her hands as he did, "then maybe I can get the miraculous without any of us having to fight her."

"By doing what?" Marinette asked, leaning slightly away from him. "By lying to her? By… pretending?" She shook her head, the idea making her nauseous. "No. This is a bad idea, Adrien. She's dangerous."

"Everything we do is dangerous, Mari," he defended. "This is a chance to make it less so. If I can get her miraculous without having to fight her, we'll be that much safer. And so will everyone else in this city. Any battle we fight is going to cause damage. If we can win without some of that, then that's a risk we have to take."

"No." She persistently shook her head. "You have no defenses as a civilian. If she finds out you're lying…"

"She won't find out."

"Why? Because you'll play your part so well?" She couldn't hide the disgust in her tone. "How far will you have to go in order to get her to trust you? To trust you enough to get the miraculous?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, a response that caused Marinette to gape. "We're superheroes—it's our job to protect the people at any cost."

"It's also our jobs to be good examples, and to do things _right_." She couldn't believe that Adrien, of all people, was suggesting this. "I know I make my fair share of bad decisions, but you always call me out on them. And now I'm calling you out, Adrien. You can't do this. It's too dangerous and it's _wrong_."

"It's not wrong if it's keeping you safe," he rebuked. "You and Nino and everyone else. I can _do this_ , Mari."

"It's not a matter of whether you can do it or not." She finally pulled her hands from his. "It's too dangerous, Adrien. If she finds out you're lying to her, then who knows what she could do. Master Fu said the miraculous were probably possessed by akumas. And akumas make people unstable. They make them do things they wouldn't normally do. The first time Lila was akumatized, she threatened to drop you off the Eiffel Tower."

"It was an illusion."

"And maybe next time it won't be!"

Looking away, his jaw tightened as he flexed his hands on his thighs.

"This is too risky," she persisted.

"Everything we do is-"

"But we do it together!" she said harshly, slamming her hand down on the woodchips. "That's why we're training together, and why Master Fu wanted us to reveal our identities to one another. We're stronger that way."

"Master Fu also knows that what we're up against is beyond us," Adrien rebuked. "If I can get one miraculous, that increases our chances exponentially."

"It also increases the chance of you being in danger," she repeated, which only seemed to irritate him. "You're my partner, Adrien. Before anyone. If something happened to you-"

"Anything could happen to me at any time. We have to take this opportunity."

"Why?"

"Because it's one less danger!"

"You said it yourself that we're _always_ in danger!"

"Yes! So I'll do anything I can to work what we have in our favor. We can't afford to lose this war, Mari! Who knows what would happen if we did."

"And I can't afford to lose _you_!"

Adrien leveled her with a hard look. "Yes. You can."

It was a response that she didn't know what to do with. Didn't he understand how much she loved him? Didn't he get how much of her world revolved around him? She didn't care about their abilities or their roles. She needed him to _be there_ —just like he needed the same thing from her. It was no different.

"That's not fair," she murmured out, her chin trembling as she did. "I told you, you're not expendable to me."

"That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?" she asked, words shaking as tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.

"It's about me doing my part of this. It's about making this as easy for all of us as we can. Mari, if it hadn't been for luck—for Nino coming in when he had—I'd have lost you to them. Maybe we'd have lost even more. Don't you see? We don't have the luxury if choice anymore."

"Choice is the only thing we have. If we give that up, we're no better than they are. Don't do this, Adrien. Please." She tried to swallow back on her nerves, but they were only pushed closer to the surface, a single tear streaking down her cheek. "I'm begging you. We'll think of something, but it's not this."

"Why are you so against this? We're in greater danger trying to fight her as we did before."

"If we train, then-"

"Then there's still danger. I could eliminate some of that."

No. It didn't matter what he said, she'd never agree to this. She knew, deep down, that it was a bad idea—that it wouldn't end well. They took the risks they absolutely had to. This wasn't that kind of risk. And maybe they wouldn't be strong enough in the end, but at least they'd go down together. She couldn't let him go through with this. Not alone. Not as a civilian.

"I can do this, Mari," he whispered.

Reaching up, she wiped the single tear from her face. "It doesn't matter what I say," she started. "You're going to do it anyway, aren't you? Just like when you put yourself between the akumas and me, and when you take other… stupid risks." More tears fell, despite her attempts to ward them off. "You don't care what I think."

"I do care," he said, taking hold of her wrists as he leaned forward. "That's why I _have_ to do this. And that's why I'm telling you."

"You're _warning_ me," she corrected.

"I'm being honest with you."

She knew she was crying fully now, and that no amount of getting rid of the tears would make any difference.

"You have to tell me," she said, voice struggling. "You have to tell me when you're with her."

"No." He shook his head, his denial only breaking her further. "I know you, Mari. If I tell you, you'll be there. I won't… I won't do that to you. I won't put you in that kind of danger."

For so many reasons—some she'd already voiced, some neither of them dared to.

Abruptly, the wisdom her father had left her with broke through her thoughts—about the real threat Adrien was to her. How had she let herself get in this deep? How had she fallen so perilously hard for him? Why did she have to care so much?

And why did he have to be so much the same?

"I'm sorry, Mari," he murmured.

But she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take his words or his logic. It was too painful, too much, and she didn't want to face it anymore.

Pulling her wrists from his hold, she shied away from him. Getting onto her hands and knees, she forced herself to her feet. She ignored the urge she had to beg and plead with him, to get back down and retreat into his arms. No matter what she did, it was going to hurt. And he wasn't going to listen.

Her whole heart felt like a painful throb echoing through her body, the motion of resituating their bag on her back almost nauseating enough to knock her off her feet. But she pushed through it, refusing to turn back to him as she did.

Even as he called her name, sounding so honest and, somehow, just as broken as she was.

It was too much. She had to go.

She had to get away from him.

She had to _run_.

No, there was no escape, not then. Not after everything they'd been through together, and how far below the surface she'd sunk with him. But maybe for a little while—for some relief—she could get away. She could stick her head up above the surface, even if the waves would inevitably carry her back under.

It was like a giant crack was splitting across her whole body, her own determination the only thing keeping her glued together. Covering her mouth with her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut despite walking forward. More tears leaked down her cheeks, and more sparking nerves threatened to knock her off her feet.

But staying would have been so, so much worse, even if she could have hidden from the hurt by seeking refuge in his embrace.

He'd made his decision and now she'd make hers.

She'd walk away, she'd heed her father's warning, and she'd give herself the chance to find a safe place to land before she fell.

**oOo**

Landing atop the nearest chimney, Chat spun on his heel, tail whipping around as he surveyed the situation. Tortue de Fer had said the akuma was in this area, but he wasn't seeing any signs of damage or activity. Eye narrowing, he flicked his ears and tried to listen, but all was seemingly calm.

Which only made him more suspicious.

"Dude, you are so late."

Spinning, Chat stared wide-eyed up at Tortue de Fer, who was hovering some few meters above him on his shield. He was calm however, arms crossed over his armored chest, and so Chat let his guard drop.

"I texted you, like, an hour ago."

"I know," Chat grumped, frowning as he did. "I fell asleep after training." Fer sank lower, until they were level. And though he wore a mask, Chat could see the suspicious glint to his amber eyes.

"You're a superhero," he stated. "Shouldn't you have your phone on you all the time or something?"

"I did," he claimed. "I had it sitting right beside my head. But somehow the sound got turned off." Fer cocked an eyebrow. "I suspect Plagg."

"Why would Plagg turn your phone to silent?"

"Because he's a butthead," Chat said immaturely. "And because…" He sighed. "Because I haven't been sleeping all that well lately."

Finally touching down on the chimney beside him, Fer pulled his shield up before clipping it to his back. He had that patient, "I know you're going to tell me eventually" look on his face, and so Chat decided it was probably simpler to just give in than fight it. Huffing, he plopped down on the edge of the chimney, feet dangling as Fer sat down beside him.

Crossing his legs beneath him, Fer waited for just a moment, before deciding to take the lead.

"This is about LB, isn't it?" he asked, Chat frowning as he picked at one of his claws. "You two have been totally off since Saturday. I mean, she barely looks at you, let alone talks to you. Your mojo is way off."

"When have you been spying on our mojo?" Chat asked accusingly, knowing full well that Fer could sense things that were probably none of his business.

"I haven't! I can't sense that shit when I'm a civilian," he clarified. "But, like, anyone can see it. Even Master Fu noticed. Her body language is totally defensive around you. What'd you do to her?"

"I didn't…" Chat sighed, before flopping back across the chimney. "Why is it my fault?" Fer cocked a skeptical brow beneath his mask. "Yeah, okay, it's my fault."

"You two are supposed to be spending time together, right? Have you even hung out at all since Saturday?" It was Tuesday.

"No…"

"Dude."

"She doesn't want to hang out with me."

"Why?"

"Because-"

"Hey!" Starting, Chat sat up, the two of them both peering down the side of the chimney at the woman below. She was holding up a phone, recording them—as she always seemed to be. "Are you two available for an interview?" Pulling the phone down, Alya smiled up at them, Chat already knowing full well where they were headed as Fer got to his feet.

"Of course," Fer shouted down to her, Chat dropping lazily down off the chimney and to the ground after his companion. Alya was beaming at them as they landed, though she was obviously looking for someone in the same moment.

"Is… Is Ladybug not with you?" she asked.

"Nah, she left after me and her got the akuma," Fer explained.

"Oh…" Alya was visibly crestfallen.

"Blame this asshole," Fer went on, gesturing a thumb back at Chat. "She's pissed at him about something." Scoffing, Chat tried to think of something to say, but supposed there wasn't any viable defense. So, instead, he hissed, ears pinned back before he turned, crouched down, and picked at the sidewalk with his claw.

His tail hardly moved at it drooped behind him.

"Oh," Alya replied, chuckling a bit as she did. Which only annoyed Chat further. There was nothing funny about his and Ladybug's situation. "Well, I mean, interviews with you guys go up on the Ladyblog too. I'm just glad I could catch you before you ran off. And without anyone else around."

They were down on a little street between buildings. Not exactly a place for much traffic flow. Above, the sun shown harshly down on them, Chat thankful that, despite the color of his suit, he remained relatively unaffected. It'd been a scorching last few days—much warmer than usual for that time of year. With the temperature consistently between 25 and 30 degrees Celsius, as well as no rain and no wind, it'd become unbearable in places without air-conditioning. And the forecast predicted it'd only get worse.

Alya was wearing cut off jean shorts and a crop top, as if to only accentuate the heat further.

"Is there something specific you want to know?" Fer asked, Adrien glancing at the two of them over his shoulder. Fer was leaning in close, attentively, and Chat almost rolled his eyes. But then recalled how many times he'd probably acted similarly around Ladybug and decided that maybe criticism wasn't warranted.

"Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys could comment any further on the conflict from a few weeks ago," she explained. "You guys have been pretty scarce lately, and no one's been able to get much a statement beyond what Ladybug said previously." That was, about staying away from Volpina and Queen Bee.

Alya wasn't wrong. They had been keeping to themselves lately. The threat of Volpina and Queen Bee kept them from doing patrols, or transforming needlessly. Their lives basically consisted of training and sleeping. Chat would have preferred time with Mari get squeezed in there, but so far that wasn't working in his favor.

Even the akumas showed up less often. Which was in no way a comfort to Chat. He knew Hawkmoth was out there, planning something, and he found it more disconcerting that, though they came out to deal with akumas, they were never ambushed by Volpina or Queen Bee. They hadn't seen anything of Queen Bee since their initial encounter and Chat was waiting for Volpina to show up again. Though he was beginning to get the feeling that was more likely to happen in his bedroom than anywhere else.

Something was going on and it drove him crazy not knowing what. Things had been easier when Hawkmoth was predictable. But without that, Chat felt like he was standing blind on the edge of a plank, an invisible foe about ready to fling him overboard at any moment.

"There's not a whole lot to say," Fer replied strategically. "Hawkmoth's got two lackeys and we have to deal with them." His summarization sounded both convincing as well as vague, which was probably best. The public only needed to know so much. Revealing everything would panic and upset the populace. And though the heroes knew they were all fighting a potentially losing battle, the city would be better off keeping their blind faith.

"But they're miraculous users?" Alya questioned.

"Yup." Fer shrugged, offering nothing more. Which caused Alya's gaze to flick to Chat. But, though he could feel her gaze on the back of his head, he didn't turn to face her.

"Well… I guess that's that then, for now," she decided. "But what about you? No one's gotten an exclusive interview with Tortue de Fer yet."

"Aren't you notorious for getting exclusive interviews?" Fer asked.

"It pays to be the only reporter willing to go into danger to get a story," she replied. "Means I catch you guys more often."

Fer laughed. Chat growled and fell back on his butt.

"I'm not that interesting, but I've got a little time to spare," Fer replied.

"Really?! Awesome!" Adrien could practically picture Alya's thrilled smile. And the dopey grin Fer was probably wearing in response.

Was he jealous? No. No he wasn't. And he most definitely wasn't imagining the kind of flirting he could be accomplishing with Ladybug at that moment if she weren't actively avoiding him. Even when they were training together, she avoided him. Didn't look at him, didn't talk to him. And he felt all the worse for it every day.

"First off," Alya started, "how did you become a superhero?"

"Sorry, but that question is off limits," Fer replied, Chat watching the way he made an "X" with his arms out of the corner of his eyes. "Strike one."

"Strike one?" Alya asked. "How many strikes do I get?"

"Three's the usual number, right?" Fer asked.

"Three?!" Alya was completely affronted.

"Sorry, Lois Lane, but them's the rules."

"Tch…" Alya frowned thoughtfully. "What kind of powers do you have?"

"Steeeee-rike two," Fer announced.

"What?!" Alya gaped. "Why?! Everyone knows the kinds of powers Ladybug and Chat Noir have!"

"Yeah, but I'm a mystery." Fer placed a hand on his chest. "Give it away and we lose the upper hand on the baddies. Gotta keep our advantages when we have 'em."

"Alright…" Alya clearly wasn't pleased. "How about this one? What's it like working with Chat Noir and Ladybug?"

"Awful," Fer replied, Chat finally turning a bit in place to look at them. "They're disgusting."

"How so?"

"Flirting. All the time. And when they're not doing that, they're fighting. Stresses a guy out, listening to it all the time."

"No we don't," Chat claimed from the ground, which got the camera turned on him.

"Didn't he just say Ladybug was peeved with you about something?" Alya offered.

Chat's ears fell flat against his head as he glared.

"Don't bother the housecat," Fer interjected, drawing the phone back his way. "He gets temperamental when he doesn't get attention from Ladybug. He's been a sourpuss for days."

"A sourpuss?" Alya asked, chuckling as she did.

"I hate you both," Chat muttered, tail whipping back and forth behind him.

"See?" Fer smiled, teeth shining as he winked once in Alya's direction. Smooth. Chat would give him that one.

"Okay, fine. Let's see…" Alya hummed thoughtfully. " _Why_ did you get to become a superhero?"

"You should have known that would be your third strike," Fer lectured, holding up three fingers as he did. "I won't fall for your word games, Lois."

"You're not exactly giving me a lot of options here."

"Okay, fine, I'll give you one more question. But it has to be an easy one."

Alya huffed. "Do you like turtles?" she asked sarcastically.

"That's top secret information," Fer replied. "Four strikes."

"You could answer that one."

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because now it's my turn."

"Your turn?" Alya asked. "Your turn for what?"

"I get to ask you questions now."

"Really?" she cocked a single eyebrow. "Okay.

Fer stood up straighter. "What do you think of my outfit?"

"Your _outfit_?"

"I think it really brings out my eyes."

Alya narrowed her gaze, before cocking a single hip and crossing her free arm beneath her breasts. Chat recognized the look—the "done with your nonsense" look. But there was something curious about her narrowed stare as well.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asked straight.

"Uh…" Fer's composure dropped away almost immediately. Which Chat knew was his signal to intervene. Alya wasn't like Mari—she picked up on that kind of stuff and called it for what it was. Nor was she the type to simply banter back offhandedly. Which meant Fer was out of time. They had to scoot, before he said something stupid.

"He'd never dream of it," Chat said, having since gotten to his feet and was sliding an arm over his best bud's shoulders. "Your question just has him a little shell-shocked."

"Yeah, I bet," Alya replied, flatly amused. "Well, let me just say this." She held up a single finger. "Strike one, Turtle Boy."

"He'll do better next time," Chat added. Following, he cast Fer a single warning look, before taking one of his staves and catapulting himself up onto the nearest roof. Fer followed shortly after, gliding up on his shield as Chat bounded between buildings. Until he was confident they'd put a good chunk of distance between themselves and Alya.

"Way to crash and burn," he said as soon as Fer landed down beside him.

"As if you're one to talk," Fer rebuked shortly. "What was it you did to piss off Marinette again?"

"That's totally different," Chat replied. "All I'm saying is, if you're not careful, she'll figure you out. Alya's not stupid. It's amazing she hasn't figured out Ladybug yet. But Mari keeps a pretty good cover when it comes to Alya. You have to do the same thing."

"Yeah, I guess," Fer agreed, shoulders slumping as they dragged their feet down the edge of the roof. "I just figure that, if she's kind of fed up with Nino, maybe she'll like Tortue de Fer better. You know, give me a chance to… I dunno. Show her I'm not a total loss."

"What's going on between you and her anyway?" Chat asked.

"Nothing," Fer replied simply. "Haven't talked to her once since school ended. So I guess that means we're pretty much caput."

"Have you _tried_ to talk to her?" Chat asked.

"Well… no…"

Chat sighed.

"Look, Tortue de Fer is _way_ cooler than Nino. It's better this way."

Uh, how exactly?" Chat asked. "You're the same person."

"She doesn't know that."

"And that's some kind of advantage to you?" Chat didn't get it. He'd spent his first months as Chat Noir wanting nothing more than to know who Ladybug was. And for her to know who he was.

"You don't get," Fer said, the two of them dropping down off the roof into the alley below. "You're Adrien Agreste _and_ Chat Noir. Both your alter egos are great." Chat cast him an unenthused look. Because Fer knew perfectly well that his life was far from great. "On paper, I mean," Fer corrected. "But with me, it'd different. Alya loves superheroes. If I can show her how great Tortue de Fer is, then maybe she'll be, like, I dunno, more forgiving of the real me or something."

"I dunno…" Chat said uncertainly, silently willing Plagg to undo his transformation. "Seems like that might get kind of messy."

"It'll work," Nino claimed, zapping out of his own transformation in the same moment.

"Or she'll be really angry when you finally tell her the truth."

"Why do I have to tell her the truth? We're supposed to keep our identities secret, right?"

"Well, yeah, but… I guess I don't understand what you're aiming to do, exactly." Stepping out of the alley, they easily merged onto the sidewalk, where the city was bustling with summer buzz.

"Impress Alya," Nino explained. "That's it."

"But that's _not_ it…"

"It's 'it' for now," Nino made clear. "It'll work."

"Alright…"

"But enough about Alya," Nino decided, waving off the subject. "We were talking about you and Marinette, before we were interrupted." Adrien was not at all thrilled at having returned to the previous topic. "What the hell is going on between you two?"

Adrien groaned.

"Or not going on, more accurately."

"It's… complicated," Adrien admitted, kicking a loose stone as he did.

"It's always complicated between you two."

"Well, now it's more complicated."

Nino raised his eyebrows expectantly, but also with a sense of scolding about him. As if trying to skip the denial Adrien was apt to go through first. But, really, Nino was giving him too much credit. He was too tired to dance around the subject. He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep a night since Saturday, aside from the fact that Mari wouldn't even look at him most of the time. And when she did, it was like her gaze was coated in this cold film. She was completely shutting him out. And he hated it. But…

He also knew he kind of deserved it.

And so, after taking a deep breath to compose his nerves, he told Nino what had happened—from Volpina to the conversation on the playground. And how Mari had practically run away from him afterward.

"Dude…" was the first word Nino uttered upon Adrien finishing, his lips pulling into a cringe. "Not cool."

"Wow, Nino, thanks for being so understanding." Adrien rolled his eyes.

"What the fuck do you expect, man?" Nino asked. "I'm not exactly thrilled to hear about this either. And you waited this long to tell me? Has Volpina been back to see you since?"

"No. But it's exactly one week today, so I'm betting it'll be my lucky night."

Nino was visibly displeased, lips pursing a bit. "You need to text me if she shows up."

"What?"

"I'm not kidding, Adrien," he continued. "Marinette's right, she is dangerous. And if you're gonna play this stupid game with her, someone ought to know about it."

"It's not a game," Adrien snapped, stopping in the street to look at him. "I don't understand why you and Mari don't get it. She's literally walking into my bedroom. I can't just let that opportunity go. _Because_ she's dangerous. Maybe you don't think that-"

"Alright, alright," Nino interrupted, holding his hands out in front of him, as if to calm the situation. "You're not wrong. It is… convenient."

"Thank you." Huffing, Adrien continued walking.

"But it is stupid to try and do it on your own," Nino reiterated as he kept pace. "If and when she shows up, you need to text me. I won't come around—because I know she can sense things too and the last thing I want to do is give you away—but you do need to tell someone. Either me or Marinette."

"I'm not telling Mari," Adrien made perfectly clear.

"Fine. Me then. But, like, you can't honestly blame her for being pissed at you." A claim to which Adrien could offer no response. "Like, aside from the fact that this is super risky in the first place, she's probably not entirely thrilled at the idea of you pretending to 'date' Volpina. In fact, I'm betting she's about the exact _opposite_ of thrilled."

"Yeah, I know," Adrien snapped.

"'You know?'" Nino asked. "Do you really?"

"Yes!" He stopped again, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he veered to the side. To a bench beneath a shop awning. Nino sat down shortly after, the late afternoon sun causing them to sweat just from being beneath it. "Look, I don't… I don't know exactly what's going on between Mari and I, okay? But… I think… I _know_ there's something. And I get that the idea of me… being with Volpina like that probably rubs her the wrong way. I'm not exactly into it either."

"'Rubs her the wrong way?'" Nino asked. "That's the understatement of the year. Have you seen her lately? She's, like, two seconds away from breaking out in tears half the time. You know, if you'd told me this right after you did it, I'd probably have punched you square in the face. I still might. And on her birthday too. _Dude_."

"You know, you're not exactly making this any easier."

"Wasn't trying to."

"You think this isn't torture for me too?" he asked, gesturing sharply to the side. "She won't even look at me, Nino. I can't sleep; I can barely eat. She's all I think about. But then I remember the last time we fought them and, just, seeing how outmatched we were. How many times did I almost lose her that night? I can't… If there's something I can do to make this easier somehow, then I have to. I can't… She says that we'll do it together. That it's the best way. But if I lost her…"

Breath shaky, he leaned his elbows down on his knees, focusing in on the cracks in the sidewalk.

"She's all I've got, Nino," he whispered. "She's _everything_."

His claim didn't procure an immediate response out of his companion. Rather, sitting back, Nino said nothing for some moments, both people and traffic rushing by as they simply sat.

"I guess the question you need to ask, then, is if it's worth it?" Nino eventually started. "You don't want to lose her, I get that, but you might be losing her this way too. It doesn't matter whether I agree with it or not, you're completely disregarding what she thinks and alienating her from the situation. And who knows how long this will go on for. Or what you'll have to eventually do.

"I get the pros of what you're trying to do, really. I might have done the same thing, if I was in your place. But the difference is that I don't have Marinette—fuckin' _Ladybug_ —pissed off at me in the process. Not even pissed off. You get it, don't you? You're literally _hurting her_ by doing this. Like, consistently. In more ways than one."

"I'd rather have her hurting at a distance than not at all," Adrien reasoned.

"You say that, but is that really okay? You say she's all you've got, but you push her too hard and you won't even have that anymore. She might never forgive you for this. I mean, I get that you two aren't official or whatever, but that resentment builds. She might not want anything to do with you if you go through with this. If it keeps up for a long time.

"You might come out of this with nothing anyway. And still be stuck fighting—just with a partner that can't stand to look at you."

"Then she'll move on. She doesn't need me to be happy."

"What if she does?" Nino asked. "What if you're the only one that can make her happy?"

Adrien cocked a skeptical brow. "She can do way better than me, Nino. I think we both know that." An argument he knew Nino couldn't argue with, not with the things he was always saying about him and Alya.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Nino said straight. "But… she's not the only one you've got." Reaching out, he laid a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "Just fuckin' text me, alright?"

"Yeah, okay…"

A second later, Nino pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Adrien asked, as Nino's motion to get his phone had been abrupt enough to link to their conversation.

"Texting Marinette," he said simply. "She doesn't deserve to worry about you twenty-four seven, especially since you're being such an asshole." Adrien pursed his lips. "I'm just telling her I'm covering your dumb ass, so she's at least got that small comfort."

Adrien supposed there was no point in arguing with that. So long as Mari didn't show up when she wasn't supposed to, that was fine.

"You really do realize that she may never get over this?" Nino asked, once he'd replaced his phone in his pocket. "Like I said, you two may not be official, but you're close enough. And bitterness is a powerful thing."

"This is bigger than that."

"There's nothing bigger than that, Adrien. It's not our job to protect this big, huge world that's supposed to exist outside our own. All we're doing is protecting a bunch of little worlds—the little worlds of other little people, just like us. Because all we really have is our own little world. It connects to all these other little worlds and all we ever do is look through our own bubbles into theirs. You said it yourself that she was everything. She's your world.

"You say this is a risk worth taking, but is it worth risking her?

"Is there anything in your life bigger than that?"

A question Adrien found he didn't know how to answer. And so he said nothing, allowing his regret and doubt to knot with everything else swirling inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You dun fucked up, boi. Better get yer shit together. 
> 
> Thank you Nino for being the voice of reason. Adrien needed it. Now, the question remains, will he get his act together before it's too late? 
> 
> (I think Nino's passage about little worlds was one of my fav things that I've ever written. I may have to use that elsewhere). 
> 
> Hu hu, we got a chapter where Mari pissed everyone off with her behavior in Part One, and now we get one with Adrien. There's A LOT of complex shit going on this chapter though--part of the reason it took me longer than usual. A lot going on behind the scenes and a lot of very carefully chosen words. 
> 
> Poor Mari. And they were so close to just... *sighs*


	14. Part Two - The Importance of Splitting Hairs

Adrien was beginning to think that, maybe, picking Nino for the Turtle miraculous had been a bad idea. For one, he was just too good at it. And, for two, he had way too many smart things to say—both in wit and wisdom. Granted, Adrien had already known Nino was intelligent (even if Nino didn't believe it himself), but he hadn't anticipated his friend's words would haunt him as heavily as they did.

As of the Saturday before—when he'd finally opened up about Volpina—Adrien had been certain of his actions. He'd known they would bother his teammates, but he'd thought it through enough to feel that the pros outweighed the cons. Of course, he'd assumed Mari would be peeved, and that Nino would be annoyed.

But, somehow, those evaluations didn't seem totally accurate, not now that he was dealing with the real consequences.

Dressed in his bed slacks, he stood some three meters away from the rock-climbing wall, an orange bouncy ball in his hand. Methodically, he tossed it, letting it bounce from the wall to the floor and back into his hand. Over and over, brows knitted together in tandem with his distracted thoughts.

He understood why Mari was angry—his plan was dangerous. She didn't like it when he put himself in danger. He also assumed that part of her was uncomfortable with the idea of him and Volpina being together. Not that they were really "together," but that was beside the point.

Yet, her reaction had still taken him… somewhat aback. Or, rather, the longer they went on without some sort of resolution, the further the stone in his gut sank, until a knot of nerves had him so uptight that he couldn't even sit still.

He'd anticipated Mari being mad. But this… this was different.

" _You're_ literally hurting _her by doing this._ "

Those had been Nino's words, and were the words that continued to drift in and out of Adrien's thoughts. Of all the outcomes he'd considered, that Mari would be hurt hadn't been one of them. That had never been his intention. None of it was real, after all, and, even if it was, he and Mari, they weren't…

They hadn't talked about being more than they were—whatever that was. But maybe that was part of the problem. The lack of certainty could lead to all sorts of conclusions. But still, even if Mari… Even if she wanted that from him, this was a job. It wasn't personal.

Or it wasn't supposed to be.

"Are you going to bounce that thing all night?" Plagg droned from up above, where Adrien had told him he had to stay. In case Volpina showed up. "You're starting to get on my nerves."

Grabbing hold of the ball, Adrien refrained from bouncing it again. The lack of motion, of regularity, allowed his chest to swell with what was becoming a regular sense of doubt.

"Hey, Plagg?" he asked after a moment. "You've been quiet about this whole Volpina thing. What do you think?"

"Why does it matter what I think?" Plagg asked. "You're not going to listen anyway."

A response that caused Adrien to turn and look up at the kwami. He was sitting on the banister, a piece of cheese in his little paws as he blinked back. The words had drawn a frown in Adrien's lips, the expression eventually pulling a sigh from Plagg's little body.

"Look, I'm all for you finally standing up for yourself and doing what you want," he explained. "But you've kind of stopped listening to other people in your quest for self-discovery." He popped the cheese into his mouth, before swallowing. "It's one thing to be self-aware and quite another to be self-righteous."

"You think I'm self-righteous?" Adrien asked, tone sharp.

"I think you're trying to do what's best for everyone without asking everyone what they want."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Plagg huffed. "It means that you're so caught up in pros and cons and formulas that you're not looking at the real picture. Just like with your schedules. Just because it's not supposed to rain when you leave the house doesn't mean that it won't. The weather doesn't care what you think—just like people's _emotions_."

He sounded utterly disgusted by the concept, but was able to get over it enough to continue.

"You say you'll pretend to, what, court Volpina? Well, last I checked, pretending only works when both parties know it's pretend. Otherwise, it's quite real. Whether you like it or not."

Gripping the ball more tightly in his hand, Adrien set his focus on the floor. He hadn't considered it that way—that even though he was pretending, Volpina wasn't. Of course he _knew_ that, but it hadn't been a "variable" he'd considered relevant. But maybe what Plagg said held some truth. If he spent time with Volpina, if he acted as though he were dating her while she assumed he really was, then was there really a difference between pretend and the real thing?

Of course there was—intention. Intention meant a great deal. But if someone doesn't intend to killed another with their car, yet do it anyway, that doesn't change what happened. No, maybe the killer wouldn't be prosecuted, but a victim still will have died.

Just as, despite any intention Adrien may have had, he'd hurt Mari. _Was_ hurting her. It didn't matter that his time spent with Volpina would mean nothing to him—it meant something to _her_.

That was, if he was brave enough to accept that, maybe, he meant enough to Mari to justify such hurt.

If he did, then that explained why she was still keeping her distance. Why she wasn't simply angry at his flagrant disregard for personal safety. Why she couldn't stand to look at him.

" _You'd never hurt me._ "

Naturally, it was in those moments of reflection that her words would return to him. When she'd made that claim, it'd been easy for him to agree. Intentionally, he'd never hurt her. And, yet, there they were. No, it hadn't been his "intention" to cause her pain, but he had. He _was_. So did that make it deliberate? If he was aware of it, did that change things?

Or were his personal defenses strong enough to excuse that?

Was there anything that _could_ excuse that?

Because it was more than just hurting her, wasn't it? The only reason she'd have made such a claim, harbored such safety with him, was if she'd trusted him. Which meant that, by doing what he was, he was violating that trust.

Yet, it wasn't that simple either. This wasn't the same as when he'd hid his father's knowledge from her. Yes, he'd unintentionally violated her trust then as well, but this felt deeper somehow. As though he'd not only trespassed on her trust, but her faith as well. And still further. Because, if pretending wasn't pretending, and Mari, maybe, felt the same way he did, then he was…

He was breaking her heart.

"Oh god…" The realization hit hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Staggering, he shuffled to the bed, before sinking down atop the mattress. Cupping his mouth with his hand, he stared blankly across the room, far too indulged in the shock of his epiphany to focus on anything.

He hadn't intended for this to happen, but that didn't matter. None of it did. His plan had been to act, get the miraculous, and claim a victory. And just like that, everything would have, what? Returned to normal?

What was normal? He and Mari didn't have "normal." Never had. They could take on akumas just fine, but there'd never been any sense of serenity in their personal lives. He was constantly wondering, constantly doubting and hoping. Their relationship—whatever it was—had always existed on the edge of a cliff, the two of them keeping it carefully balanced as they'd slowly crept closer.

Closer to the edge, daring to reach out toward one another despite how terrifying it was.

So what had he done to her?

Abruptly, his thoughts assaulted him with the image of the two of them there, on that cliff. Before he reached out and pushed her over the edge.

The impression nearly choked him, his skin becoming pale and clammy as he reached up and gripped tightly at his hair. Was he really as self-righteous as Plagg implied? Had he been so indulged in his own aims that he'd completely bypassed the effects they might have on others? On those most important to him?

No. It was worth the risk, wasn't it? If he could do this, then he could make the world safer for her. He could get them that much closer to ending this.

Yet, no matter his excuses, none of it was selfless—not as he'd convinced himself it was. Rather, it was the exact opposite! He'd told Nino it didn't matter if she hated him, if she found someone else. He could deal with that pain. But didn't that also mean _she_ had to? He knew better than anyone what it was like to lose someone he loved. Was he inflicting that on Mari?

She'd said she loved him. Platonic or otherwise, he knew she cared for him—that was a fact he couldn't deny. And if it was true that, maybe, she felt something more, wanted more, then his claim at being able to deal with her distance wasn't noble. It was selfish—because he was causing her the same pain he was causing himself.

And so his reasons for doing so could never be okay. He'd sworn to himself, consciously or not, that he'd never hurt her. She'd believed that of him. And yet.

If the situation were different, if this was Nino and Alya, what advice would he have given? He'd want them to be happy, of course. He'd want them to figure it out together. And he certainly wouldn't want them to hurt one another, especially if doing so would only _potentially_ make things "better" in the long run. Doing such would seem to defeat the purpose.

Why? Because that wasn't the right way to love!

He knew that better than anyone.

What he was doing wasn't fair to Mari, just as what his father did to him wasn't. He was doing exactly what his father did. Perhaps not so severely, or for the same reasons, but the concept was the same. He was acting on his own, disregarding everyone else's opinions, because he thought it was for the best in the long run. That it'd keep Mari safe, and provide she'd have a better chance at being so in the future. He hadn't considered her own feelings on the matter, or thought them relevant.

Just as his father did to him.

But her feelings _were_ relevant. They were supposed to be a team—him, Mari, and Nino. Yet, he was alienating her from something they normally took on together. He was ostracizing Ladybug, of all people, from a battle plan.

Since when was that okay?

Yes, he'd always promised himself he'd protect her. If she needed it, he'd be there. He'd cut in front, always. But this wasn't the same. He wasn't cutting in front, he was cutting her out completely. And putting himself in danger, not being careful—the very thing she had asked him not to do.

This plan wasn't necessary. It was a luxury, a bonus, and so had different qualifications than their typical situations.

Mari didn't want him risking himself unnecessarily, just as he wouldn't want her to. If this had been her plan—her in his shoes—there was no way he'd have been okay with it. So why was it okay for him?

How had he let everything get so out of focus?

And how had he become the very thing he despised about his own life?

" _How many lives do you save that are of no relevance to you, putting yourself at risk for those who care nothing about your own safety? What about the people that do? How are they to cope when you take a wrong step?_ "

Was this his misstep?

No, he didn't agree with his father's sentiments. Like Mari, he still believed, and would continue to believe, in what they did. But, suddenly, his father's words made sense. Of course he'd put himself in harm's way to save another, but his plans for Volpina weren't the same. This was pre-determined danger.

" _Someone who's own foolishness got them killed._ "

A foolish death was not a commendable one.

The danger aside, Plagg was right. Pretending was only pretending as long as all those involved were aware of it. Volpina thought their "dating" was real, and so it was. Though her truth wasn't his, that in no way invalidated it. Which meant that, on the cusp of being with Mari, on the edge of nearly leaning in and becoming something more—no matter what that "something" was—he'd turned around and left her.

It'd been easy to be in denial before—to convince himself that his feelings were one-sided. But that Saturday in the park, when she'd lain there with him, and allowed him to touch her. When he'd leaned in, finding courage despite his pounding heart, and she hadn't pulled away… He couldn't deny that. It'd happened, even if it did now seem like only a dream. He'd dared to make a move and if they hadn't been interrupted, more may have come of it.

And if that was possible, then—despite his disbelief—she had to reciprocate his feelings at least a little. Her reaction to his plan made him want to consider something greater than "a little," but that was a different subject. Rather, his focus shouldn't be on the fact that maybe she liked him too, but how he may have ruined that.

What had he done? Had he really, unintentionally or not, chosen someone else over her?

How could he have been so _stupid_?

What if she didn't forgive him? What if she decided he wasn't worth the grief?

"Shit," he swore, his heart beginning to beat fast with panicked nerves. He had to talk to her. He had to fix this. Whatever she wanted—an apology, anything.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, standing as he did. He needed to talk to her! He needed to _do something_!

He couldn't lose her over his own idiocy. No risk, no result, was worth that. Was worth _hurting_ her. Especially when she'd been gracious enough—generous enough—to dare love him back.

Feelings he'd run over with his own self-righteous blindness.

"Fuck!" he shouted, turning frantically in search of his phone.

"Such language."

Eyes wide with startled surprise, Adrien whipped around, gaping stupidly at the figure that stood just inside his open window. It was like whiplash, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt as he tried to digest. His heart was screaming at him to contact Mari, while his head was abruptly hijacked.

Because Volpina was there, and he had to deal with that.

"I, uh…" He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts against his roiling emotions. "Just stubbed my toe… is all."

She needed to be gone! He had more important things to deal with!

"Oh, poor baby," Volpina cooed, smirking as she linked her hands behind her back and crept toward him. Which, of course, put his guard up immediately. Not because he felt threatened, but because he was suddenly regretting having gotten himself into this mess in the first place.

He'd wondered the last time she'd been there if he could reject her without creating danger for himself. He still didn't know if that was possible or not, but his insides were screaming at him to try. He had to attempt to work the situation in that direction, but that would require a great deal of manipulation and finesse.

Which was something he was no good at. Never had been.

Why had he ever fathomed that this was a good idea?

She was so close now, staring up at him from beneath batting eyelashes. Swallowing, Adrien conjured up the best smile he could, thoughts running a million miles a minute despite his inability to voice a single word.

"You're surprised to see me?" she asked.

"Er, y-yeah," he fumbled to say. "It has been a whole week…"

"A whole week I gave you to miss me," she determined, Adrien trying his best to both keep eye contact as well as look anywhere else in the room.

He still needed his phone.

"Oh… right…"

"C'mon," she said then, reaching out and taking his hand. A moment later, he was stumbling across the room after her, rounding the white sofa before she yanked him down beside her atop the cushions.

And there was his phone, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Have you said anything to anyone about us?" she asked a second later, Adrien remaining focused on her as he blindly grabbed for his phone. It almost slipped from his hand in the process, but he caught it before he could accidentally shove it over onto the floor. "I forgot to mention last time that you should probably keep this just between us for now."

"Oh, yeah, I… figured," Adrien replied, smiling again. "I didn't say anything to anyone."

"Right…" Yet, she looked disappointed.

He wasn't surprised.

"That's all superhero stuff though, right?" he asked. "I mean, secret identities, all that. I figured, if I said anything, Ladybug, Chat Noir, or that… turtle guy would come and start asking me questions." Since he was supposed to be on her side now.

"That's true," she agreed, silence falling between them. Which put Adrien only further on edge. If he kept her talking, then that'd be a distraction. He didn't want her to come up with her own distractions.

How had he done this to Mari? Danger aside, there were other expectations of this situation. Expectations he clearly hadn't thought through properly. If he and Mari weren't together, would anything with Volpina be considered cheating? Was he cheating on Mari? Or was he making it into more than it was?

No, nothing would happen. Whether it was a legitimate concern or not, he didn't want to do those kinds of things with Lila.

He had to find a way out of this.

"Did you- Did you find them? Last time?" he asked, hoping to start conversation as he glanced quickly down at his phone. He flicked his attention purposefully between her and the screen, navigating his messages as discreetly as he could while she sighed beside him.

"No. They're hiding from me, cowards that they are," she replied. Her evaluation wasn't entirely false, though they were hardly hiding because they were scared. "But I'll find them." She was glaring out at his windows. "No one can hide forever."

"No, hah, guess not."

He sent a message to Nino.

_Adrien – Found my homework. Working on it now. Kind of changed my mind about Chinese in the summer though._

Yes, school was over, but if she noticed his messaging, he could still explain it away. The important thing was that Nino understood his meaning without it being blatantly clear—just in case she happened to get his phone.

"Wh-what about that… teammate of yours?" he asked, rapping his fingers on the back of his phone, which was sitting on his thigh. "Isn't she helping you?"

" _Her_?" Volpina sounded disgusted. "I haven't seen her since we last fought Ladybug and Chat Noir. She's hardly my teammate. I didn't choose to work with her."

"So… you two don't, like, talk…?" What did Hawkmoth's lackeys even do? How did they work? If he had to have her there while he tried to figure out how to, in turn, remove her, then the least he could do was try and make something useful of it.

He didn't want to make Mari suffer any longer, but his choices were limited in those moments. Which only made him feel worse and worse by the second.

"Talk? No."

Adrien gulped, turning his phone over to read the message he'd received from Nino. "Why not?" he asked at the same time.

_**Nino – Are you having trouble with your Chinese? Do you want me to come help you?** _

"Why should we?" Volpina asked, looking directly at him as she did. And so he set his own attention fully on her. Or seemingly so. "I don't need her help. She's not nearly as strong as I am."

"I-Isn't she?" Queen Bee had been pretty powerful, last he'd checked.

"She's afraid," Volpina replied, expression darkening as she turned and glared out the windows again. "But I'm not. I know Ladybug is wrong and I'm going to help Hawkmoth in any way I can."

"How- how can you help him?" Adrien asked quietly, sending a message at the same time.

_Adrien – No. I'm getting through it for now._

"By hunting down Ladybug and Chat Noir, of course," she replied, glancing his way again. The resentment that had previously been gracing her features had snapped away, the abruptness of it causing Adrien to falter in his speech.

"Oh, r-right."

"I don't need help to do that. Hawkmoth is depending on me and I won't let him down. Once Chat Noir and Ladybug are finished, Paris will realize how the wool has been pulled over their eyes." She reached up and cupped her miraculous. "I'll be the real hero. The one I deserve to be."

Adrien gulped, uncertain what to make of her threat. Be it as Chat Noir or a civilian, he didn't know what to say.

On his leg, his phone buzzed, and he glanced quickly down at the screen.

_**Nino – Okay. Just tell me if you need any help. I'll be there.** _

"How, uh, are you going about… finding them… exactly?" he asked, hoping to keep pushing the subject despite discomfort. Or awkwardness.

"You ask an awful lot of questions about that subject," she replied quickly, lips tightening some as she looked directly at him. He wouldn't say she was suspicious, but it wouldn't take her long to get there.

"Well, y-you're _Volpina_ ," he started, laughing a bit as he did. "I'm just really interested in what you do. I love superheroes." His comment clearly went over well, her lips stretching into a small smile. Yet, at the same time, she also took the words as an invitation and scooted closer.

Adrien tried his best not to rear back.

"Well, enough about me," she purred. "Let's talk about what _you_ do."

"What I do?"

His phone buzzed again and, using it as an excuse to lean away, he cast her a tight grin and peered down at the screen.

His heart nearly came to a dead stop in his chest.

**Marinette – Nino told me you were having trouble with Chinese. I know you already said that you didn't think I could help you with it, but if you do need me, I'm here.**

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at the text. Somewhere—maybe just down the street—Mari was thinking of him. She knew where he was and what he was doing. She knew who he was with. And so, despite how texting her had always sent an excited thrill down his spine, he was caught between being glad she was talking to him and ashamed for the same reason.

Only Mari would be good enough, professional enough, to send such a message despite disagreeing completely with his actions. Not only that, but she was doing it despite how he'd practically taken their relationship—whatever their relationship was—and throttled it with a belt.

Because, naturally, she still cared. Of course she did. And Adrien had never felt dirtier, lower, or less worthy of her friendship—let alone her affection—since they'd met.

The only descriptor he could even come up with to describe himself was "asshole."

"Who are you talking to?" Volpina asked, her voice far too close for comfort. Turning to her, Adrien saw that she was still leaning in, one eyebrow cocked in skeptical curiosity.

"Uh, just a friend," he replied. Glancing back down at his phone, he tried to think of something to type, but all his brain kept offering up was a plethora of apologies. Apologies that, when faced with the damage he'd done, seemed like nothing more that empty words.

He couldn't apologize. Not like that. Not without being face to face with her.

So, instead, he typed as little as he could get away with.

_Adrien – Thank you._

"Well stop," Volpina said, reaching out with a teasing hand and pushing his phone off his thigh. Adrien flinched at the contact, his cell falling in-between the couch cushions in the process. She was basically hovering over him as a result, the devious expression on her face only making him more desperate to act.

He didn't like this. Not at all.

"Heh, sorry," he replied, knowing that his smile came across as more of a cringe. "Ah, could you, er…"

"Yes?" she asked, laying a hand on his chest as she nosed yet closer. Leaning back, Adrien was only shocked with another layer of unease when the back of his head collided with the couch.

"Um, look," he gently reached up and tried to shove her back by the shoulders. "I really would prefer to take this slow." Her intentions were rather blatant by that point.

Though she didn't exactly back off, she didn't continue pressing closer. Which Adrien supposed was better than nothing. Though he was on guard, part of him wondered how far she'd be willing to force it. There was no doubt she could overpower him, but he didn't want to assume the worst. Yet, he really didn't have a choice. Because if her miraculous was possessed by an akuma, and so she was tainted by it, then there was no way of predicting her behavior.

He had no way to gauge just how far she was willing to go, even if he said no.

Which was beginning to scare him.

"How slow do you want us to go?" she asked coyly. Not a good sign.

Thinking as quickly as he could, he tried to come up with something convincing. "Ah, well, I don't really have any experience with… anything." Not a lie, but not admitted in the honest attitude he had toward such. "So, like, really slow." Like, so slow that they weren't even moving. That would be great.

"No experience? You? I find that very hard to believe," she replied. "Supermodel Adrien Agreste?" She said it all with a teasing sense of disbelief, as if she thought he was playing some kind of game.

"While being a model has its perks, time for that kind of thing wasn't one of them," he explained, pushing back on her some more. He was flooded with relief when she finally sat back beside him.

"'Wasn't?'" she asked.

"Yeah, I don't… do that anymore," he admitted. "Modeling, I mean. I quit."

"You're not a model anymore?" she asked flatly, Adrien merely shrugging as he straightened some in his seat. "Why did you quit? You were so good at it." And also famous and desirable and everything she'd wanted him for in the first place?

"I'm just not into it anymore," he said simply.

"Oh…" She'd frowned quickly, before seeming to shake herself from the moment. "Well, I think you were very good. You should still keep it in mind." She said as much with a suggestive smile, which only made Adrien even more certain he'd been right to give up his career in fashion.

"I'll consider that."

Pause.

He took the opportunity, reaching down into the couch cushions for his phone at the same time. "So do you always go out this late?" he asked, as it was nearing ten at night. "Don't your parents worry about you or anything?"

"My parents?" she asked, slumping back a bit more as she looked thoughtfully to the windows. "No. They don't care what I do."

"Oh…"

"They're not even here," she went on, voice going a bit lower as she did. "They dropped me here before going off their own. Like usual. But I prefer it that way." Her tone was severe, Adrien watching as her gaze grew shadowed. The same way an akuma would look if pushed into more negativity. "I can do whatever I want this way. Which means I can dedicate all my time to finding Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"All your time?" he asked. "They've dealt with a few akumas lately. How come you didn't get them then?"

That dark gaze flicked his way. "It's not that simple."

Naturally.

"Hawkmoth has a plan. I have my duties. Interfering with akuma isn't one of them. Don't you worry," she said, smirking as she did. "I have everything under control."

No, he had the feeling that she really didn't.

"Hawkmoth has told me his plan," she continued. "I know what I have to do."

Which was in no way comforting to Adrien. He knew he wasn't alone in being suspicious of Hawkmoth's behavior lately. Akumas, but no Volpina. No Queen Bee. As he'd inferred, something was going on behind the scenes. Yet, he had the feeling that Volpina was just as much a pawn in this as any akuma, and whatever she knew likely wasn't the truth. Or the whole truth, in any case.

"Have you met him? Hawkmoth?"

The look she cast him was almost scolding, albeit intended to be playfully so. Still, Adrien took it quite seriously.

"I can't tell you that kind of stuff," she replied. "Well, not yet." She scooted just a bit closer again. "We're taking things slow, right? I can go slow too."

Perhaps she was trying to be endearing, taunting him with her position as an "admired" superhero, but it came off to him as more of a threat. Or a bargain. As if to say, "you show me yours and I'll show you mine." But he had no intention of "showing" her anything.

What he should do was end it.

"But I should go," she continued. "I still have a lot to do tonight. I'm very busy, you know. I may not get to visit you that often." Reaching out, she tapped him once on the chest. "Make sure to miss me."

"Hah, of course…"

Surging forward, she invaded his personal space once again, his heart shooting up as they stared, nose to nose.

"Until next time," she whispered.

And, just as swiftly, she was swishing away. Tight-lipped and pale, Adrien watched her vanish out the same window from which she'd originally come. He gripped his phone almost too tightly in his hand, his heart still hammering with nerves.

It wasn't until he'd had a few moments to breathe in his solitude that he finally pushed his brain into working again.

Swallowing hard, he put his attention back on his phone. There were no new messages, but he pulled up his chat window with Mari anyway.

Centering himself, and trying to get refocused on what he'd been doing before Volpina had crashed through his brain, he hovered his thumbs over the keys, only allowing for a moment of hesitation before he began to type.

_Adrien – I know you're really peeved with me, and I don't blame you. Are you awake? I really need to talk to you._

He waited almost a full minute before he got a reply, his anxiety building all the while.

**Marinette – What about? Did something happen tonight?**

_Adrien – No, it's not about any of that. Well, it is, but not like that. Can I come over?_

Watching those ellipses was torture.

**Marinette – We'll see each other tomorrow. And then you can tell Nino at the same time.**

He grit his teeth in frustration.

_Adrien – This isn't something Nino needs to hear._

More waiting.

**Marinette – I'm really tired, Adrien.**

Though his fingers twitched, wanting to type frantically, he held himself back. His chest felt choked, like he couldn't take in full breaths, and he blinked against the disappointment. But what had he expected? After the way he'd treated her, it was no wonder she didn't want to see him.

Slowly, he allowed himself only one small sentence.

_Adrien – Okay, I'll see you tomorrow._

He didn't bother waiting for a response—he knew he wouldn't get one. And he also knew he didn't deserve one.

Somehow, it seemed fitting—that he wanted nothing more than to vault out the window and sprint down the roofs to her balcony, but, instead, was stranded in his bedroom, uncertain whether he'd ever even belonged there in the first place. It was empty, claustrophobic, and only reminded him more severely of how alone he was.

If he'd been more aware, more considerate, then he wouldn't have to be there. He could be with her, like he had been those other nights that then seemed so far away. But instead of being tentatively welcomed as he had been before, she was rejecting him.

And it was all his own fault.

He missed her so much…

Head bent, he tried to regulate his breathing, but still it was short and ragged, and only made his defenses weaker against the pressure behind his eyes. Covering his face with his hands, he tried to fight it off, but the anxiety was only rising with each thought of her that flitted through his head.

The one person in his whole world that he wanted most, that he treasured more than any other, and he'd thrown her away in his own ignorant carelessness.

And, now, he had to pay the price.

It was his own fault-

He'd hurt her; he'd hurt himself.

He'd ruined _everything_.

**oOo**

"That's enough," Master Fu said firmly, both him and Nino leaning forward intently.

Marinette, on the other hand, stood with her practice staff held out before her. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, she was just as surprised by her own actions as any of the rest of them. Before her, Adrien was on the ground, blinking as a slight red spot began forming along the side of his forehead. She hadn't intended to hit him. They weren't sparring. Rather, they'd been practicing a complex series of exercises, staff to staff across the mats. Though they'd been working quickly, there shouldn't have been any reason for either of their staves to make contact with either of their physical bodies.

But Adrien was much more adept at the exercises, and Marinette had been struggling with everything all morning. She knew she was frustrated, but she hadn't intended to break form. It'd happened before she even realized, the end of her weighted staff thrusting forward when it shouldn't have. And Adrien, who trusted her enough not to be on guard, had been right in the way.

It'd knocked him right in the head, sending him butt-first onto the mat.

And now, sweat beading and breathing heavy, Marinette watched as a single dribble of blood slowly leaked down above his eyebrow.

The sight, despite her frustration, spurred her from her shock and into action.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she said, dropping her staff as she rushed down to him. He was finally recovering from the blow (which had probably rocked his brain pretty good) and had reached up to finger his injury. He flinched as he touched it, smearing the blood through his hair in the same moment.

"I'll get a towel," Nino volunteered across the room, where he and Master Fu had been watching their progress from the table.

"Don't touch it," Marinette said weakly, taking his wrist before he could poke at the injury again. Guilt washed through her, teeth gritting as the blood continued to flow into his brow, which forced him to close his eye. Nino was at their sides with a towel a moment later, however, and Marinette didn't waste any time in dabbing the redness away, before hoping to stopper the injury completely.

"I'm so, so sorry," she repeated, her voice straining inside a whisper. Adrien's attention had long since flicked her way, their close proximity hardly seeming relevant with the bloated tension wavering between them.

It'd been like that all morning, which was different than the days before. It'd been easy to ignore him, and her own hurt feelings, when he'd been actively doing the same thing. But, like the same wave of heat that had overcome Paris, something new had washed up between them. Because, suddenly, he was wanting to talk to her, and he was guilty, and his green eyes were constantly looking for hers.

But she didn't want him to find her, and so now…

Now she felt like she was constantly running in place.

"It's okay, Mari," he murmured, reaching up to take hold of the towel. Their hands brushed, Marinette yanking hers back almost as though it'd been pricked by a needle. Which he noticed, his lips pursing before Marinette looked purposefully away.

"Take a break now," Master Fu said, drawing all focus his way. "Come. Sit."

Nino helped Adrien to his feet, which gave Marinette the excuse to head over first, refusing to look back as she did. She sat on the side of the table closest to the wall, her hands folding in her lap. Master Fu sat to her left, watching her, and she refused to meet his gaze.

Nino took up the seat on her right, Adrien plopping down across. And so she looked even more determinedly at the table.

She wasn't sure if it was her fault—or maybe her and Adrien's fault combined—that caused the silence between them to be bloated with awkwardness. Almost as though Master Fu and Nino couldn't help being dragged into their bubble of drama.

Accenting this point, Master Fu sighed, before humming to himself afterward. He did not sound pleased.

"You're all making very good progress," he started a second later. "With your combat skills, in any case. But we must always be wary of our mental states when in battle. Even a slight wandering of thought," Marinette knew he was looking at her, "can cause an accident."

Across the table, Adrien shifted, but said nothing.

"Do you think we'd stand even a small chance against Volpina and Queen Bee now?" Nino asked.

"Hmmm, a better chance," Master Fu replied, "but you're all still just beginning. Though you are catching on quickly, and growing stronger, you still lack a sense of 'being' what you do. I can see it in your expressions when you spar. You are all considering every move you make, every step. And when you do not focus on such things, accidents happen." He nodded to Adrien. "This is not bad, but normal. All will become habit soon enough. Which will be an advantage your enemies will lack."

Finally, pushing all her tension to the side, Marinette glanced up, looking curiously to Master Fu as she did.

"Though Volpina and Queen Bee have the advantage of Hawkmoth's mental manipulations, they are learning very little. Just as a student who wants to succeed must study, those who cheat will not have that knowledge truly at their disposal. Though it requires more work, the three of you will match them, even exceed them, should you keep your focus and diligence."

"I just worry that we'll have to face them again before we're ready," Marinette added, her voice sounding oddly foreign on her lips. She'd barely talked all day.

"Neither Volpina nor Queen Bee have made appearances in combat since that first time," Adrien tacked on, still holding the towel to his head. It was stained red where he was applying pressure. "Part of me is glad, because we're not ready, but it also worries me."

"Yeah, I don't like it," Nino agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. Marinette wasn't sure if it was because of the training they'd been doing or if he'd been more conscious of shaving before, but Nino had begun sporting a shadow of facial hair—across his jaws, chin, and around his lips. It wasn't shaggy or unkempt, and the edges were clean and trimmed. Really, he pulled it off very well. It made his face appear stronger, more defined, and serious. Older.

Add in the muscle definition he and Adrien had both been slowly adding on and they were beginning to show very real signs of their accelerated growth. But it was easier to take note of such things in Nino than Adrien.

She didn't want to look that closely at _him_.

"I mean, shouldn't they have made some kind of appearance by now?" Nino continued, none of them bringing up Adrien's "situation" with Volpina. They all knew Master Fu would disapprove (which was all the more reason why it shouldn't be happening at all). "There aren't even as many akumas as there were when it was just you two."

"That's true," Adrien agreed. "It's been pretty quiet."

"It is disconcerting," Master Fu agreed. "But… there is the possibility that, after gaining access to the artifacts he stole from me, Hawkmoth has set his attention elsewhere. We don't know what his true goal is—only that he desires the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to attain it. But there is a chance that some of what was stolen—other than the Fox and Bee miraculouses—could be of use to him."

"So, what, he's using some of that stuff to plan something?" Nino asked.

"It's a possibility."

"Is there anything stolen, besides the Fox and Bee miraculouses, that could give him some kind of advantage?" Marinette asked.

"We don't know his true aims, so I can't be sure. Most of what he took were scrolls pertaining to the origins of the miraculouses. I can't imagine those would be of much use to him. But there was one important book."

They all listened intently.

"It is not a book generally linked to the miraculouses directly, but it is said to hold the secrets of the first miraculous holder. It's been passed down from guardian to guardian since the beginning of our line, but never been translated from its codes. Mostly because it was considered too dangerous to make readily available in any way."

"Too dangerous?" Adrien asked.

"It is… a spell book of sorts, for lack of a better descriptor. Not in the sense that modern-day interpretations of magic would have one believe, but similar nonetheless. Though guardians had access to it, it was strictly forbidden to write down any translations from its text." Master Fu tapped his temple. "Had to keep it up here. I looked into it a few times, but rarely made much of it. There was, however, a lack of investment on my part. I spent much of my time as a guardian tracking the miraculouses, not focusing on old magic.

"But it is not impossible to decode. It would take time, and patience. And knowledge of both history and language. Hawkmoth would either have to possess these skills or procure them from someone else in order to make sense of it. Though the text is convoluted and strange, it does possess powerful secrets."

"So you think maybe he's trying to use this book, and that's why he's been so quiet?" Marinette asked. "Because he's… distracted?"

"I know nothing for certain. I only know that Hawkmoth is one who desires power and that the text he stole possesses that. Whether what's inside the book would be useful to him, I cannot know. There are many reasons that could be attributed to the current calm, most of which we could never even fathom. But that he is using, or interested in using, the knowledge he stole from me is not a possibility to be overlooked."

He was abusing the Fox and Bee miraculouses, after all.

"But there is no point in focusing on such things now," Master Fu said sternly. "Attention paid to that which we cannot hope to understand only distracts from what we are capable of." He paused. "I sense there is much distraction between you all as of late."

Words that were both direct and not, and enough to cause Marinette to glance once again to the table. She knew that what was going on between her and Adrien, or not going on, was inappropriate for their situation. Aside from the fact that it disrupted their team dynamic, she and Adrien were supposed to be partners. How many times had Master Fu said they needed to spend time together? That it was pertinent that they did?

Yet… Marinette just couldn't bring herself to give in to that, to "focus" on that. Not then. She knew it was wrong, and that she shouldn't be putting her personal feelings before her professional ones, but the idea of getting close to Adrien again was just…

It was something she wasn't ready to do. Part of the problem was that she wasn't willing to face their situation. She was wary of what would be said; what Adrien would unintentionally trap her with. She knew that his plans for Volpina came from a place of duty, even if she disagreed with them, and that it wasn't meant to hurt her. But it did. Every time she considered them alone together, or what he might have to do to get that miraculous, she felt nauseous and sick.

If she gave him the chance to speak with her, to apologize, then she was afraid she'd give in. That she'd nod and accept despite what he was doing, and simply suffer through it. True, she wanted to forgive him. She wanted back what they'd had. But she was also afraid. It'd hurt so badly when he'd admitted to her what he was going to do. The thought of being close to him again, to being in a position to be injured so acutely again…

It was terrifying.

Pretending the pain didn't exist, ignoring him—it was easier. Numbing, maybe.

And cowardly too.

"Um, I know I shouldn't, but," Marinette started suddenly, already ashamed of what she was about to say, "do you mind if I leave early today?" She looked directly at Master Fu, forcefully wearing blinders to anyone else. "I promised my friend, Alya, that I'd hang out with her. And I know that's not… important. But, I just… I haven't seen her since summer started and…"

She was expecting some sort of disapproval, or scolding. But Master Fu's expression didn't portray any such thing. Rather, his gaze seemed to soften, before he reached out and gently patted her arm.

"You go," he replied, nodding. "See your friend. Seek balance there, hmm?"

She didn't know why, but his words—his understanding—were almost enough to choke her up then and there. She couldn't speak, too afraid that only a sob would come forth from between her lips. So, instead, she nodded, before hastily beginning to make her escape. Grabbing her bag and shoving her water bottle inside, she was soon standing. Without casting a single look at either Adrien or Nino, she headed for the door, Tikki buzzing up onto her shoulder as she did.

Master Fu's place didn't have air conditioning, so it was naturally stifling and hot. But outside was no better, and so, despite how she'd been hoping for some kind of relief, Marinette found none. The air felt just as heavy, the heat just as unbearable. It'd been a shallow kind of wish, desiring that the weather be what gave her reprieve. Especially when most of her own misery existed outside such unimportant details.

But she didn't want to think about that. Taking a deep breath and pushing back on the pressure that seemed to be constantly fluctuating inside of her as of late, she made her way down the street. She ignored the people, the shops. She went to the subway, ignoring her own feelings as they threatened to trickle in with her thoughts.

It was so much easier to think of nothing, and so she let the rumbling of the subway lull her into a state of dullness. And when she reached her stop, she set her attention on that which was in front of her. On walking up the steps, and taking the right turns on the sidewalk. On pushing her way through the back door of the bakery and heading up the stairs. Robotically, and with no words to Tikki or anyone else, she went to her room. She shed her clothes, showered, and redressed.

It was only once she was methodically putting he pigtails back into place that her shield was penetrated.

"Marinette?" It was Alya, as expected. Turning, Marinette had just finished with her hair as Alya came up the stairs into her bedroom. "Hey!" Alya said, a broad smile stretching across her face as she did. Marinette did her best to return the expression, but could tell by the way Alya's own faltered that she hadn't been entirely successful. "I was gonna say 'long time no see,' but I think, instead, I'm just gonna cut to the chase and ask you what's wrong?"

Naturally, she'd want to discuss that which Marinette had been taking great pains to avoid.

"It's nothing," Marinette tried to assure, forcing her smile wider despite how out of place the motion felt against the tightness of her face. But when considering that all she'd really been doing lately was either forcefully ignoring everything or crying, that wasn't so surprising.

"Don't even try lying to me, girl," Alya scolded, heading over to the fainting couch before sitting down. She patted the spot beside her sternly, Marinette putting all her self-control into holding back her stress as she dragged her feet across the room and sat down beside her.

"You look terrible," Alya reiterated.

Marinette sighed. "It's really nothing," she lied. "Please. I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Her voice was weak, which only concerned Alya more. But, though her best friend was forceful, she wasn't pushy. She wouldn't keep on the subject. At least, not for the moment.

"Well, what do you want to talk about then?" Alya asked. "We haven't seen each other since school ended. What have you been doing all this time?" A valid question. Every time Alya had texted her about hanging out, it'd always been impossible to do. Not with the rigorous schedule she had with Master Fu, and how exhausted she tended to be afterward. She was adapting better now, and so wasn't quite so trashed after their lessons. But it was still tiring. She was sure that, without Tikki's influence, she'd be even worse off.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," she replied. "It's been really… hectic lately."

Alya cocked an eyebrow, but Marinette offered her nothing else. "That's it?" she asked. "You're not going to tell me what's been so 'hectic?'"

Normally, Marinette would come up with some story or lie. But, as of then, she simply didn't have the energy.

"I'm sorry, Alya…"

Her friend huffed. "Does this have something to do with Adrien?"

A question that snapped Marinette's focus to complete attention. "W-why would you think that?"

"Uh, because you look super depressed and heartbroken, that's why," Alya offered. "No offense, but you're not doing a very good job of hiding it. So unless there's some other kind of drama in your life that would upset you this much, that's the only thing I can figure. Am I right?"

Marinette frowned.

"Of course I'm right," Alya decided. "What happened? I thought you two were friends now. Did he start dating someone or something?"

Marinette hadn't meant to flinch away like she'd been hit, but Alya's deduction was just too close to home. "Something like that…" she muttered. And it was clear, based on Alya's gape, that she hadn't anticipated her guess being "correct."

"Oh, Marinette, I'm sorry," she replied, slinging her arm around Marinette's shoulders. Of course, there was a lot more to it than Adrien "dating" someone else, but it was the closest that Alya could really get without knowing too much.

Unable to find her voice in order to respond, Marinette shook her head, taking some comfort from Alya's tight embrace. She wondered if her best friend thought, maybe, she'd simply moved too slow. That her efforts to be friends with Adrien were what had allowed this development.

And, though it was stupid and unfair to herself, Marinette wondered the same thing. If she'd told Adrien weeks ago how she felt, would they have gotten together? Would he have listened when she'd said how uncomfortable she was with his Volpina plan?

Regretting what couldn't be undone, however, was pointless. And didn't make the hurt go away any faster.

Alya rubbed her hand up and down Marinette's arm. "No wonder you look so bummed…" she murmured. They sat like that for a few moments, before Alya straightened and pulled her phone from her pocket with her free hand. She knew, just as well as Marinette desired it, that a distraction was better than wallowing. "Did you see this on the Ladyblog?" she asked, grinning as she held her phone up for both of them to see.

"The interview you did with Tortue de Fer?" Marinette asked, thankful that Alya's hobbies were enough to produce another small smile from her. "Yeah, I saw it. You really embarrassed him."

"Well, he shouldn't be using his superhero status to flirt with girls far more fabulous than he is."

"You weren't impressed with him?" Marinette asked, beyond thankful for the lightness in subject change.

"Hardly," she replied. "Ladybug trumps both him and Chat Noir any day, but that's quite beside the point. I was hoping he'd be inexperienced enough that I'd get him to give me something more than he did, but he was closed up like a clam. More focused on flirting than giving a good interview." Alya pretended to gag.

Marinette giggled for the first time in days. "You didn't want him flirting with you?"

"I'm a professional," Alya said seriously, pulling her arm from around Marinette's shoulders. "I don't have time for those kinds of games."

"I bet Nino would be relieved to hear that," she dared to say.

"Nino?" Alya cocked a skeptical brow. "Why would you say that?"

Marinette's brows furrowed. "Well… because you two are…?"

"We're what?" Alya asked, her tone just a bit too short. "He hasn't so much as texted me since school let out. Nino and I are nothing." Face straight, she turned her attention back to her phone, scrolling through the Ladyblog as Marinette tried to think of something to say.

"Have you tried texting him?" she dared to question.

"Why would I do that?" Alya asked, looking her way again. "Whatever _could have_ been between us fell apart before school even ended. And I'm not going to waste my time hunting him down. I've got enough on my plate—I don't need to add 'chase Nino around' to it. If he wanted to see me, he'd make the time to do it."

Marinette almost said something, but then decided against it. Telling Alya that Nino was pretty preoccupied lately probably wouldn't end in her favor. Truth be told, she wasn't sure why Nino was so distant when it came to Alya, but perhaps—since they were teammates now—she could ask him.

Or ask Adrien.

That thought, unchecked as it was, rocked her whole head. The only way she could ask Adrien about such things was if _whatever_ had happened between them was fixed. Which led her down the cascading road of "how" and "why" and whether she was willing to put herself through that pain, and-

"Hey," Alya interrupted her frantic thoughts, hand coming out to lie comfortingly on her arm—as if Marinette's thoughts were painted all over her face. "How about this? You, me, some of that chocolate chip cookie dough I know your mom always has in the fridge, and some trashy movies we can make fun of all afternoon."

Marinette allowed a relieved smile inch across her lips, Alya's hold on her arm keeping her anchored above all the doubts and hurt wanting to pull her under.

"And no more talk about stupid boys," Alya added. "Our afternoon needs to pass the Bachdel Test, agreed?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Marinette replied, voice far weaker than she would have preferred.

And Alya, because she always seemed to know what Marinette was thinking, allowed a small, understanding smile to grace her own lips, before she moved her arm around Marinette's shoulders again.

"It's okay that you're hurting, you know," she murmured, leaning in close. "You don't have to hide that from me."

Words that worked against Marinette's feeble defenses like a cannonball bursting through a paper wall. Before she could stop herself, her eyes were fogging, and her chin was trembling. Shortly after, the exhausting tears—which she'd been dealing with for days—trickled forth, streaking down her cheeks in what had become a familiar pattern.

Pulling in close, Alya wrapped her arms fully and completely around her, before leaning their heads together. Marinette didn't sob, or make a big show of her misery, but she did take the small comfort that was offered. She let Alya see her weakness, her quiet sniffing and bitter tears. Until her shallow pool if energy was once again dried up. Feeling defeated and raw, she let Alya lead her down to the living room. Where, just as promised, they sat, ate cookie dough, and made fun of stupid action movies and their reductive narratives.

It was an easy escape—like closing a door against all the bad feelings—and by the time Alya had to go home, Marinette was feeling a bit safer from herself. Though she was tired, and knew the battle would start anew the next morning, she thought that, maybe—if she went to bed as soon as she could—sleep would actually be possible for more than a few late hours.

Of course, she should have known it was too much to ask.

She wondered, fleetingly, how long he'd been sitting up there. If he'd been waiting for Alya to leave, or if he'd only just arrived. She supposed it didn't matter. She knew that the tapping on her skylight could be no one else. Not because it _couldn't_ be Tortue de Fer or any number of others, but because something inside her _told_ her it was him. Maybe it was his proximity, or the way she was assaulted with that heavy tension once again. She didn't know. And it didn't matter.

He was there, he was trying to get her attention, and she had to decide whether or not he would succeed.

The immature part of her wanted to simply turn off the lights and pretend he wasn't there. But he didn't deserve that kind of cold shoulder. Yes, she was hurt and upset—heartbroken maybe—but he hadn't caused her any of that grief purposefully. She disagreed with his actions, but that wasn't what was keeping her away from him.

He'd wanted to talk to her the night before, but she'd dodged that bullet. This one, however, was coming right at her, and she wasn't sure it was possible to get out of the way this time. Not without doing more damage than was already done.

She couldn't ignore him forever.

Taking a shaky breath, and pulling comfort from the way Tikki settled silently on her shoulder, she climbed up to her bed before lifting up the skylight. Bracing herself, she continued all the way up. Until she was standing on her balcony, the night sky open to the stars.

Yet, between them and the heavens was that unbearable wave of humid heat, Marinette certain it was only making the suffocating air between them harder to breathe.

It didn't help that he stood there, shoulders slumped and ears drooping, with a large bouquet of light pink roses held in his clawed hands. Even masked with his feline aesthetic, she could see the fraught way his eyes looked her over, and the tension that permeated his whole body.

His desperation was practically screaming at her, which only closed her up further. She didn't want to see it, or feel it, or whatever it was that happened when they got so close. She had enough of her own pain to deal with. She wasn't sure she could take on his too. Not without breaking again. She barely had her pieces pulled together when they were training—there was no guarantee she could hold them then. Not if she gave in to him.

And so, despite any gesture he was making, she forced herself to look to the side. If only to save herself the heartache she knew would eventually overwhelm her no matter what.

"Mari…" he murmured, the familiarity of his voice only pushing her closer to that edge. "Mari, I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she managed to choke out.

"Yes I do."

"You make your own choices, Adri- Chat. It doesn't matter if I disagree with them."

"Yes it does," her persisted, taking a step forward. But the way she shied back halted him in his steps, his lips pulling into a cringe. "Look, Mari, I…" His own breath audibly shook, which only unnerved her further. "I fucked up, okay?" Abandoning the roses on the table, he pulled nervously at one of his claws. "I should have listened to you. You're my partner and I was being selfish. I thought I was doing the right thing, so I didn't listen to you, or to anyone. And I should have. I don't know what I was thinking and I'm sorry."

She didn't know what to say—was afraid of what would come out if she tried—and so she remained silent.

"And it's not just that," he continued, his own voice sounding tight and strained. "I… I didn't mean to hurt you, Mari. I didn't… consider your feelings, or my own feelings for that matter. I thought it'd be easy—all I was thinking about was the result. And I wasn't considering everything I was messing up in the process."

"My feelings don't matter," Marinette said, trying to sound defensive, but failing. What was the point in hiding it anymore, after all? He clearly knew why she was upset. Otherwise he wouldn't have apologized for it.

A fact that only made everything that much worse.

"They do matter," he said, his claim only making it harder for Marinette to stand up against her own churning emotions. "They matter to me. And I was too blind to realize I was… I thought I was seeing this big picture and that it made it okay, but it doesn't. Nothing makes it okay. I never wanted to hurt you, Mari."

"It's okay," she said quietly, quite certain she was barely balancing on the edge. "I'll get over it."

"I don't want you to 'get over it,'" he countered, looking like he wanted to move toward her again. But just as he leaned forward, he stopped himself. "I want… I want-"

No, she couldn't stand to hear this. Not then; not as she was.

"Please, don't," she practically begged, unable to hide how her hands were shaking as she pulled them guardedly up in front of her. "Please don't say anything else." Blinking rapidly, she tried so hard to keep it all at bay. But nothing was working and the tears, _again_ , fell.

Would they ever stop? Why wouldn't this end?

"Mari…" And why did he have to sound so heartbroken about it too?

"I can't do this right now," she continued, throat hiccupping around her words. "It's too much. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, and I know you're trying to apologize, but I just _can't_."

No, he couldn't look like that—he couldn't be her reflection. She didn't want to see his own hurt feelings like she kept seeing her own in the mirror. But he was breaking too and it was all just too heavy. She didn't want to be responsible for it all. She could save the people of Paris, she could protect them, but she couldn't do _this_. She didn't want his heart to be tied to hers, not when she knew hers was already so far gone.

Which was what made it so terrifying. Because she'd given her whole self to him a long time ago. Without a second thought. And now she was in so much misery as a result. She didn't want him to feel that misery too; she didn't want to think about what that meant.

She just wanted it to be over.

" _Mari_ ," he pleaded. "Don't do this. I know I'm not- not always making the right decisions. But I'm _trying_."

"I know," she cut in, nodding as she did. "I know you're trying, Adrien. I know all that. But… this all just happened so _fast_. One moment you were this- this boy that I barely knew and then we were partners and I don't know why or how and th-then we were together so much and I just got lost in it all and-" Reaching up, she gripped the sides of her head, if only to steady the pounding. "And then this _whole thing_ happened and I didn't know it'd hurt so bad until it was too late. And it-it's _still_ too late and I d-d-don't know what to do because I don't understand why _me_ and I'm so _confused_!"

"Marinette…"

"And I-I don't know what's _real_ and what's _not_ , and I thought if I could get away from you, then maybe I'd figure s-something out! But you're always _there_! And sometimes I think m-maybe my feelings aren't just mine and then you're so close and I can't think straight! And I just- just- I just want to- It just _scares_ me and I don't know what to do anymore!"

It was just too much. Too many things she didn't understand; too many feelings she hadn't been prepared for. She'd fallen so fast and so hard and barely had time to catch her breath in order to truly realize. It'd been so wonderful until it _hadn't_ been and now she was so _afraid_. Because she hurt despite his apology, despite his good intentions. Nothing she did, or he did, was making that hurt go away. And it frightened her—because if this kind of pain was what was possible, then how much worse could it get? How vulnerable was she, to be so victim to his words and gazes and actions? How did he have so much _power_ over her?

"I know it's confusing," he said, his own tears streaking down over his mask. "I'm confused too, Mari. And I know you're scared, because _I'm_ scared. I just- You're _everything_ , and I can't- I can't-"

"Stop!" she begged, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. "Please!" Her whole body shook around her, bones clattering inside her skin. She felt so weak—in every way imaginable—and so could do nothing as her knees slowly bent. Until she was in a crouch before him, wishing she could whisk away every feeling ricocheting inside of her. "Don't say any more," she asked faintly. "I don't want to hear _any more_."

Didn't want to deal with any more.

She was so _exhausted_ from it all.

The ringing in her ears was so loud, and her heart was pounding so rapidly, and with such fierceness, that every nerve in her body was raw with awareness. Charged and sensitive despite how she wanted, more than anything, to be numb.

To feel nothing, if only so she might be able to think clearly again.

But his voice didn't keep echoing in her ears, and his presence didn't continue to haunt her. Until, finally, it was only the breeze that disturbed her. Everything around her was empty, quiet. No words—not even a breath outside her own.

She was alone on her balcony as she opened her eyes. And, yet, _still_ , the agony was there. Still it struck every part of her—unrelenting and unstoppable.

From the table, a few pink rose petals flitted loose, lifting off over the banister.

She watched them, finding no relief. No calm. No serenity.

Only anguish.

Because she was so tired of crying over him, but wasn't brave enough to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pink is Mari's favorite color *cries*
> 
> *Siiiiiiigggggggghhhhhhh*
> 
> Volpina is being inappropriate and it's not okay.
> 
> More mature looking Nino would look boss with five o'clock shadow facial hair and no one can tell me otherwise. Fight me. 
> 
> Sad chapter is sad, and these kids are very complex, layered, and hard to write. But I like the result, angsty or not.


	15. Part Two - Faults and Virtues of Fear

A whole week.

That was how long Marinette had been plagued by this stale, empty feeling. Like every move she made, every thought in her head, was swimming slowly through a pool of water. All her senses seemed dulled, all her emotions cut at the stem before shriveling up above the source. Part of her dangled, only a hair's breadth from plummeting through empty sky. But she held on to the rope and kept her eyes closed.

She pushed on.

But it was beginning to wear on her.

A whole week she'd spent saying little and sticking to routine. A week that she could barely look back on and remember because she was so preoccupied with guarding herself against every possible breeze that could knock her from her perch.

And Adrien, well, he wasn't just a breeze. Or even a strong gust. He was a hurricane that bombarded her constantly. Every day—despite how he kept his back to her these days and never met her eyes. The distance didn't do any good—the windows still shook around her, rattling against their locks. And though she stayed hunkered down in the corner, she knew it was only a matter of time before that storm broke through.

She could feel it in her gut, the inevitability. But she didn't know what to do about it—didn't know how to defend against it.

One week.

Beside her keyboard, the sound of Tikki breaking a cookie in half drew her attention. The kwami was facing away from her, chewing quietly.

Gulping, Marinette found her voice. Inside, her anxiety was teetering. She needed to talk to someone. Yet, the only subject she could seem to think about lately was the one she was also trying to forcibly ignore.

But Tikki knew, so it could be safe. Maybe.

"You haven't had a whole lot to say about this," she said, voice relatively flat.

Turning her bulbous head, Tikki paused in her chewing, but said nothing.

"Neither has Master Fu," Marinette went on. "I thought it mattered—whether we spent time together or not…" Outside of their training, she hadn't seen Adrien at all—a fact she wasn't sure whether to be thankful over or not. Her defenses said she should be, but the pull inside her—the one that she couldn't explain—screamed otherwise. Yet, it was easier to stifle a scream than break down a wall.

"It does matter," Tikki said, her tone gentle as she set her cookie down on the desk. "It matters a lot." Yet, her words hung. "But… you don't want to see him right now."

Tikki hadn't even said his name, but Marinette glanced away nonetheless. As if she could possibly avoid the very topic of him. But whenever she allowed herself that acknowledgement, a cold stinging began to trickle down through her. The signs of fear, and the trappings of panic.

"I didn't know that it mattered what I want…" she said quietly.

"Of course it matters," Tikki assured, flitting up in front of her. The little kwami was frowning, sympathy in her gaze. "You and Chat Noir can only be a team if you're able to work together." Coming forward, Tikki nuzzled into her cheek. "And, right now, you can't do that."

"Do you think I'm overreacting?" Marinette asked, her thoughts echoing with " _like last time?_ "

Tikki, pulling back, settled down on the edge of her keyboard. "You can't be faulted for that this time. Maybe Adrien didn't mean to hurt you, but, this time, his decisions really did. He didn't just lie—I know that. I know there's more to it."

"So you're not… you're not disappointed in me?" she asked. "For… being this way?"

"Disappointed? No." Tikki smiled gently. "But I am worried."

Marinette didn't ask, but her silence, and the fact that she didn't turn away, gave Tikki the go-ahead to continue.

"I'm worried about _you_ , Marinette," she started. "Adrien's not the only one you've shut out."

Which was true. She didn't say much to anyone these days, except for Alya. Because Alya was the only one she trusted not to bring up the subject. She'd even been neglecting Tikki. No, her kwami hadn't seemed to mind, but that didn't make it right. Or responsible.

"I know. I don't mean to-"

"Marinette?" The sound of Sabine's voice sent Tikki scurrying behind the computer, Marinette turning in her chair as her mother climbed up the stairs into her bedroom.

"Yes?" she asked, feigning what she hoped was a convincing amount of ease and good humor.

"I was just wondering if you had the waterproof travel bag up here," she explained—referring to the small, zipper bag that they stored bathroom supplies in when they travelled. "I'm going to need it in a few days."

"Oh." Furrowing her eyebrows, Marinette stood and walked over to her vanity, before pulling open one of the side drawers. There, scrunched up and unused since their last trip to China, was the plastic zipper bag. "Are you going somewhere?" she asked as she walked back to her mother and handed her the bag.

"Yes." Sabine nodded, sighing in exasperation as she did. "It's nothing serious, but I need to go visit some distant relatives in Tibet." She took the bag, not looking the least bit thrilled at the prospect.

"We have relatives is Tibet?"

"Yes, though none you've ever met." Sabine explained, smiling gently. "I'll only be gone a few days. Your father will be here, of course, but you've seemed pretty preoccupied lately anyway."

Understatement. Thankfully, her parents trusted her enough to give her the freedom she needed. Her long days away from home weren't questioned, especially when she did a good job of talking up how she was "hanging out" with her friends. Usually, they asked her to man the bakery some in the summer, but it hadn't come up as of then.

"Yeah, I have been," Marinette agreed, unable to rid her voice completely of its distant tone.

Despite having the bag she'd come for, Sabine paused, brows knitting some as she looked her daughter up and down. It was a gesture Marinette hardly noticed, as her attention had fallen to the floor. And so, when her mother cleared her throat, she almost jumped.

Ironic, how preoccupied she could be with trying _not_ to be preoccupied.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Sabine asked, which was not a question Marinette wanted to answer. "You've not been yourself for a while."

"Is nothing, mama," she replied quietly. "Just…" What? Was she "busy?" With her friends? What was there to be wrong with that? "It's really nothing."

But her mother was in no way convinced. Though she was visibly concerned, there was a sternness about her as well. A resolve that Marinette simply didn't have the strength to fight.

"Come here," Sabine issued shortly, before gesturing Marinette over to the fainting couch. Silent, they sat down, Sabine placing her bag aside before she folded her hands patiently in her lap. She watched—waiting maybe—but Marinette didn't know what to say. Even if she did want to talk about it, where would she start? Was it possible to filter anything she'd been dealing with in a way that was safe for a civilian?

The idea of doing so, with her thoughts so weighed down in emotional mud, seemed impossible.

Sabine wasn't to be swayed, however. "Is this about Adrien?" she asked straight, which caused Marinette to flinch away. Answer enough. "I've noticed he's stopped coming in to get you when you three leave. And you two don't say anything to one another when you're walking by the windows."

Swallowing hard, Marinette pursed her lips and folded her hands together anxiously. She didn't want to talk about this—didn't want to face it—and so was completely unprepared. She had no idea how to respond, the pressure of the question causing her chest to tighten.

"What happened, honey?" Sabine asked softly.

Marinette's breath was already shaky. And the nausea was rising in her stomach, pushing everything else—her nerves and weakened shields—to the surface. Until the words were being forcibly thrust up through her throat, with nowhere to go but past her lips.

"I don't… know what happened," she admitted quietly, words choked. Reaching out, Sabine laid a hand lightly on her arm. "He's sorry. I know he is. But I… I can't…" She shook her head, not knowing how to articulate further. It was like trying to describe the damage a tidal wave had left behind—one could try, but that would never capture the reality.

Sabine, however, didn't need any further explanation. "He hurt you," she verified. Teeth gritting, Marinette managed a nod, feeling ashamed as she did. She didn't want to be hurt; didn't want to be vulnerable. But the gaping hole in her heart made it impossible to deny.

"I'm sorry, honey," Sabine murmured, reaching up and pushing some of Marinette's loose hair behind her ear. "You said he was sorry?"

Nodding, Marinette flicked her gaze up. To the bouquet of wilted roses sitting on her workstation. They were drooping, the petals littering the table around her sewing machine. Every time she looked at them, she was assaulted by dread. The longer they sat there in that vase, the more they died. They'd been cut off, were suffocating, and it left her only more anxious.

How long could she and Adrien last, cut off as they were?

"And he didn't mean to hurt you?" Sabine asked further.

Marinette shook her head. She knew he hadn't intended for this to happen. Yes, his plan had been risky, and yes, she disagreed with it in that regard. But she understood the logic of it. Yet, she just couldn't use that rational to sway her feelings. It didn't matter what the original point had been, she still felt so much anguish at it all. Which only shamed her more, because it was bordered by territorial jealousy and a degree of betrayal. Feelings she knew were both unfounded and immature. Yet they burned her, scorching around the panic and dread.

"Do you want to forgive him?" Sabine asked. Marinette nodded. "And so why can't you?"

The question caused her throat to close up, her lips to purse tightly together. She could feel it like a ball rising up through her chest, the reason. And it was travelling fast, shattering each one of her carefully crafted, if not fragile, shields as it did. Until she was gasping, chin trembling dangerously.

"Because I'm _scared_."

Scared of being hurt again, of having to go through this pain all over again. And scared of him, because—though she'd known she was in love—she hadn't realized just how rooted those feelings had become. He held every power over her, could crush her with something as thoughtless as a dangerous plan, and there was nothing she could do about it. She just felt so out of control, so unable to pull back. And so she was trying her best to cut through the ropes that held her. Yet, it was like cutting through her own veins—painful in the worst way.

But, most of all, she was afraid of herself.

Whenever she looked at him, her whole body swelled. His smile, his voice, the way he crowded too close and tentatively ran his fingers over her skin. The way he cared and how he was always trying to do the best that he could, even when it was wrong. His own strength, even if he didn't see it, and that glint to his eyes when he looked at her. She couldn't get any of it out of her head. And sometimes the passion and adoration she held for him was so explosive that it overcame everything else inside her. It left her breathless, and high, and feeling like she could soar.

But then she'd had to fall, and though she'd tried to find a safe landing, she'd crashed and burned anyway. Those feelings of elation still fluttered, wanting to be free, but she'd slammed a cage over them, too terrified to be carried off once more. What if she plummeted again? What if there was something worse?

What if she _lost_ him?

If she let herself go that high, then how would she possibly survive that fall? It'd be so much worse—hundreds of times worse than it already was. And the heartbreak was already too much to bear.

There was so much love there—so much more than she'd fathomed herself capable of—and she knew, if she let go, it'd grow out of control. It'd become so big and so present, there'd be no way to pen it in.

It'd _consume_ her.

"Oh, Marinette," Sabine murmured, reaching up and gently cradling her daughter's cheeks in her hands. Her expression was understanding, smile gentle, and it only made Marinette break apart further. "You're so young—far too young to be afraid of love."

Unsure what to make of her words, and desperate for any kind of relief, Marinette blinked up at her. She didn't mean to beg for a solution, to ask so much, but she was so tired. And so defeated.

"You've lived such a privileged life," Sabine started quietly. "It's what I wanted for you—someplace safe to live and grow. A childhood without loss or grief; a place where you could find strength without having to overcome the tragedies others have had to face. And so you have. But, perhaps, it has not served you well in every way." Hands slipping away, Sabine smiled. "Do you love this boy?"

A question that, normally, would have sent Marinette into a blushing tizzy. Yet, the idea of such was simply too far removed at that point. Too unimportant in comparison.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then you can't let fear control you," Sabine continued. "Love is a gift. You have been surrounded in it all your life, but it's harder to come by for others, and harder still to keep. If you love this boy, then you can't let your own fear hold you back.

"I know it's overwhelming." Reaching out, she laid her own hand over Marinette's. "I know passion, and I know fear, but there is an ultimate truth that no amount of caution can guard against. No matter how you fight, those feelings exist inside you now. And you will know loss as a result.

"It's inevitable. The world we live in isn't permanent and we'll all lose those most precious to us. It is scary, daring to love another, but being alone, being safe, is worse. Because if you do not allow yourself the risk of loss, you cannot know happiness. Loss can only be possible when we have something worth losing."

"But…" Marinette shook her head. "I can't- I don't know…"

The fear was paralyzing. She didn't know how to get over it.

"I don't know how to stop being afraid."

She wanted to. She wanted to be completely ignorant of the heartbreak so that everything could go back to the way it was, but that was impossible. She was stranded, and floundering.

"It's not a matter of being rid of the fear, Marinette," her mother explained. "We aren't brave because we're not afraid, we're brave when we know we're afraid and decide that we won't let that fear make our decisions for us.

"If you're truly in love with this boy, and you think maybe he loves you too, then that's not something you can allow to be squandered with fear. I know you're strong enough. It doesn't matter if it lasts a day or your whole life, it's a chance you can't let slip by you."

Her hand squeezed around Marinette's, holding her like an anchor as those words drifted closer.

Of course, such things were always easier said than done. But, for the first time since she'd run from Adrien in the park, she thought, maybe, there was a bit of sunlight filtering through.

Her mother's words made sense, even if she didn't know, exactly, how to relate to them. But if fear wasn't something she could ever get away from, then perhaps it wasn't a matter of somehow ridding herself of it, but learning how to live with it.

That outlook made it easier to breathe. Made it easier settle her thoughts and roiling emotions. Of course fear was a part of life, but she hadn't considered it so concretely before. She was afraid of being heartbroken, and of losing Adrien, but her mother was right. No matter what she did, they'd be torn apart someday.

Yet, there she was, allowing her own fears to do the tearing.

She knew, then, what it was like to love—to have fallen in love. And it was to that feeling she'd wanted to return, just without all the recent baggage. Yet, it wasn't a matter of ridding herself of that load, but learning how to carry it. And, maybe, if she focused on what she wanted to be important, instead of what was simply raining down around her, she'd be able to do that.

Wallowing in her fear was what was easy, after all. And nothing between her and Adrien had ever been easy. She did love him—she _wanted_ to love him—and so she had to keep working for it, even if it was painful and hard.

Shutting him out, and everyone else, wasn't helping. That was no different than closing herself up in her bedroom and letting the world move on around her.

She was Ladybug. If she could save Paris, then she could certainly find the courage to love one boy—even if he was as lost on how to love as she was.

It was small, and insignificant compared to the rest of her worries, but she felt a little relieved. One crack in the door was better than none, and it gave her something to work with, something to focus on.

A kind of rationale that _made sense_ , even if the fear was still weighing her down.

Turning her gaze on her mother, she let her shoulders slump, a small smile just barely tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Thank you," was all she managed to murmur out.

"Don't thank me," Sabine replied, patting her hand lightly before pulling back. "You're the one that has to do something." She smiled again. "And I think you should. If what Adrien did is forgivable, then there's hardly any reason not to try. He does, really, seem like a very nice boy."

"He is," Marinette quietly agreed.

"And he feels the same way about you?" Sabine asked, the shrewd look that had overcome her expression not getting by Marinette. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to mind. She wasn't even close to figuring anything out, but what little relief she'd finally managed to find kept her, for the moment, relatively calm.

Or perhaps putting herself through so much misery made her more apt to accept that which she hadn't dared to before.

"I… I think he does," she replied, peering almost shyly up at the drooping bouquet of roses.

"I thought so," Sabine verified. "I've seen the way he looks at you."

And, of course, her mother had to turn what had once been tentative bashfulness into the real thing.

" _Mom_ …"

"He's rather transparent, that's all I'm saying," she continued, shrugging as she did. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you about it." A statement that caused Marinette's eyebrows to scrunch together suspiciously. "About how close you two have been getting."

"Uh…" Marinette had no idea where this was going.

"There's no point in denying it," Sabine went on. "Whether you two are going through a rough patch or not, it's plain as day to me." She said it as though it were that simple—as if everything between herself and Adrien wasn't broken and uncertain. Which left Marinette unsure how to respond.

Not that she needed to.

"You're getting older and I know that. And I realize that no matter what your father and I would prefer, you're going to do what you want. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled you and Adrien like each other so much-"

"Mom-"

"-and I'm not trying to stop you from acting on that."

"Mom!"

"But when and if you do, I want you to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Marinette squawked. Had they not just been talking about how she and Adrien barely looked at one another lately? There wasn't anything to be "prepared" for! They weren't like that, and Marinette didn't know if they _would_ be like that. It was just too much to consider when she wasn't even sure how to go about dealing with the current drama between them.

Yet, despite her outburst, Sabine was unfazed. "I realize you and Adrien aren't getting along at the moment. But I have faith in you, and I know you'll be able to work through this." A claim that sufficiently snapped Mariette's mouth shut. "And I also know that relationships between young people are charged with all sorts of things."

Marinette, despite her weariness, couldn't help the heat that rushed to her cheeks at her mother's implication. She and Adrien _weren't like that_. But no matter how she considered rebuking with as much, the words wouldn't come.

"I'm not saying I don't trust you, but sometimes passion takes hold of us when we least expect. All it takes is one misstep and your whole life could change. Like I said, I've seen the way you two look at one another. And while I have my own views, I wouldn't dare impede on something that I think means such a great deal to you. But it would be reassuring to me, and your father, if you were prepared. Even if nothing comes of it, such things can't hurt."

"What are you saying…?" Marinette asked quietly, the redness that was blossoming across her face only growing more apparent. By that point, she had a pretty good idea of where the conversation was headed, but—like so many other things as of late—she didn't quite know how to deal with it.

"I'm happy you and Adrien feel so strongly about one another. And I think it's safe to say that anything happening between you two would be more serious than simply going out on a few dates." She raised her eyebrows knowingly, Marinette unable to disagree. Everything between herself and Adrien was serious, if only because there was no other option. Not as they were, and not with the secrets they held. "I want you to be ready, honey. So that you're not having to deal with the consequences otherwise."

Swallowing hard, Marinette nodded in understanding. Though she doubted the possibility, she could comprehend her mother's concern. She did, after all, spend a great deal of time with Adrien—even when she was trying to avoid doing so. It was only natural that her mother be concerned. And with the freedom her parents willingly let her have, as well as her mother's acceptance of what was only a hypothetical situation, she felt it unfair to object.

And, maybe, the little bit of hope reviving inside her inched her toward considering that a deeper relationship with Adrien wasn't so impossible—as long as she could deal with their current situation, as well as her own insecurities.

"I already made the appointment with your doctor," Sabine explained. "With me going out of town, they managed to squeeze you in tomorrow. I know it's soon, but they had the afternoon time open. And it's after… whatever it is you and your friends are always doing."

"Okay…" Fiddling with her fingers in her lap, Marinette glanced up again. "Is… Is Dad okay with this? With me…?"

"With you being around boys? Or going on the pill."

"Both?" Marinette asked, cringing as she did.

"I think he's long accepted the boys," Sabine assured good-humoredly. "And yes, I did tell him about your appointment."

"Does he like Adrien even less now?"

"He's always liked Adrien, honey. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."

Like she was then.

As if able to read her thoughts, Sabine laid her hand against Marinette's cheek—pulling her once again from her own anxious thoughts.

"You and Adrien will figure things out," she assured. "I have faith in that. And so should you."

Leaning some into her mother's touch, Marinette nodded. She did her best to believe in her mother's words, and to have courage despite how every warning bell rang against her skull.

This was her decision now—her time to act. Maybe she didn't know what she'd do, or how she'd do it-

But she'd figure out something.

She'd make this pain worth her while.

**oOo**

He was surprised she'd agreed to come.

Well, maybe that wasn't fair. Whether they were speaking on a personal basis or not, they still had jobs to do—still had to be professional. And now, thanks to him, Volpina was on their radar in a way that required acute attention. A battle not fought by Chat Noir, but by Adrien Agreste, and one he regretted initiating more and more as the hot summer days wore on.

"It might actually rain today," Nino mentioned, still dressed in his workout gear as he peered up at the late afternoon sky. He held his hand above his brows, squinting as he did. His statement was one echoed all over the city—that spoke of a desperate hope. It hadn't rained in two weeks and, with the above average scorching temperatures, everyone was eager for some relief. Clouds had been gathering on the horizon all day, but had yet to offer their services.

Adrien wasn't holding his breath. He figured the drought would continue. All the forecasts were saying it would, and so he had no reason to believe otherwise.

Fanning himself with his hand, he sat down at the picnic table in the park. The tree leaves above them wavered in the dry breeze, a popsicle wrapper fluttering by before getting ultimately caught beneath the carousel.

Sitting down across from him, Nino rubbed at his carefully groomed facial hair, which drew a slight smirk from Adrien.

"You're seriously keeping the beard?" he asked, pulling his tank top away from his body as a dribble of sweat streaked down his chest. He was still in his workout clothes as well, despite having gotten home hours before Nino had. But they were what he wore more often than not these days, and they fit him better too, loose as they were. Well, had been loose. They were less so these days. He knew he'd grown a bit—both in muscle and height—and was pretty positive his jeans wouldn't slip on as easily as they once had. It'd be a tight fit, in any case.

"Don't dis on the beard, bro," Nino scolded. "Besides, it's not really a beard, it's scruff. And just you wait—it'll impress all the ladies. Looks boss with Fer's helmet."

Adrien snorted, rolling his eyes. And it was as he was making an exaggerated show of not being impressed that he caught sight of her. She'd just entered the park and was headed across the grass toward them.

She wasn't wearing her workout gear, as they were, having instead changed into a white halter-top and a pair of pink shorts with knee-high gladiator sandals. Which more than revealed her toned arms and legs. But Adrien didn't allow himself the view—hadn't been for the last week. Instead, he tore his gaze quickly away, focusing down on the tabletop.

It'd been made quite clear that she was doing all in her power to avoid him. And so he wasn't about to make doing so more difficult than it already was. He knew he'd screwed up, that he'd hurt her. In trying to apologize, he'd only ended up hurting her _more_. So if this was what she wanted—what she _needed_ —then he'd stay as removed from her as he could. It was the least he could do.

Even if it was ripping him apart inside.

"You look nice," Nino mentioned as she finally reached them.

"Thanks," Marinette replied, before sitting down on the bench beside Nino. Pulling his elbows up on the table, Adrien turned his finger over a knot in the wood, knowing full well that he had no right to say a single thing to her. It was an unfortunate rapport they'd fallen into, but unless she spoke to him first or he had no choice but to address her, they said nothing to one another at all. Nino suffered as a result, having to sit through their cold awkwardness, but Adrien didn't know what to do about it.

There was nothing he _could_ do about it. She didn't want him— _any_ part of him—and so he'd live with it. He didn't have any other choice and deserved no better. After all they'd been through, all she'd given him, and he'd trampled over her so thoughtlessly. He wouldn't blame her if she never looked at him again.

"So," Nino started after the appropriate amount of stifling silence had acted as Adrien and Mari's greeting with one another. "Volpina."

"Volpina," Adrien repeated quietly, still scratching at the table. Huffing, he pushed on, despite how the topic grated at him. "She'll probably visit tonight, if she's sticking to her weekly schedule." Allowing his hair to sweep down in front of his face, he focused even more acutely on the table. This Volpina thing had been what had caused the rift between himself and Mari, and so he felt even more ashamed of his actions, talking about it so openly. But it had to be done. He'd screwed up and now they had to do something about it.

"So what are we going to do?" Nino asked, laying his arms out on the table. "You clearly don't want to keep on doing this, right?"

"Right," Adrien agreed quietly. That was the whole reason they'd called their meeting—because it was getting close to when Volpina would show up again and Adrien was at kind of a loss on what to do. He didn't want to be "dating" her anymore, but was wary of the consequences of simply breaking it off. Mari had been right, after all. Those possessed by an akuma could be unpredictable—Volpina had created some rather risky illusions last time.

And it was too chancy for him to fall back on Chat Noir. He didn't know how astute Hawkmoth was in looking in on his lackeys, but the last thing Adrien wanted was to reveal his identity. Which meant he had to do the one thing he'd wanted to avoid in this plan—ask Mari and Nino for help. Really, that alone told him how bad an idea it'd been in the first place.

"I want to apologize," he interjected suddenly, still refusing to look up. "For this whole stupid thing. I should have talked to you both about it first, and listened when you said it was a bad idea. Now we're all dragged into it."

"What's done is done," Mari said, Adrien somewhat surprised that her voice lacked the cold shortness it'd adopted as of late. She sounded almost… gentle? He wasn't sure he believed it. "Besides," she continued, "do you really think she would have accepted 'no' as an answer in the first place?"

This question took him somewhat aback, and so he accidentally looked up-

Only to find she was looking at _him_.

Which startled him into retaining eye contact. He hadn't had a clear view of those bright blues in over a week. The sight took his breath away—literally caused him to momentarily stop breathing—while his lips parted stupidly.

But she didn't allow the shared look to go on for long. Breaking it with a flick of her own gaze, she glanced off to the side while light pink bloomed across her cheeks. Which left Adrien unknowing what to think. Questions buzzed abruptly back and forth through his thoughts, layering and layering as he continued to simply blink at her.

It was only when Nino spoke again, clearing his throat beforehand, that Adrien finally thought to quit his staring.

So she'd looked at him—it didn't mean anything. They were there to talk business and be professionals.

He wouldn't let himself believe more than that.

"It doesn't matter what he could have done before," Nino cut in, doing his best to try and bypass the controversial part of this whole situation. "Fact is, Volpina's around now. And she's still just as dangerous. In more ways than one."

A hint that caused Adrien to purse his lips and carefully consider his words before he spoke again. "It's hard to tell what she'd do if I tried to end things. She seems relatively sane, but she's still kind of abrupt and, like, swayed by emotional swings. I don't know if that's just Lila or if it's because of the akuma." He paused for a short moment, grinding his teeth before continuing. "But if I don't end things, then I think she's probably going to want to… do things."

Mari's fingers drummed on the tabletop.

"Which I don't want to do," he continued. "But, as Adrien… she might not give me a choice—if she is… 'unstable' enough to use force." Whether such instability was caused by the akuma or just part of who Lila was being completely irrelevant.

"Right…" Nino replied. "You really think she'd be that predatory? Like, in that way?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Adrien considered it. Though he had no hard evidence of such, he had to trust the stone in his gut. "I think it's possible," he said quietly. "It could just be the akuma and her… negative feelings, but I still think there's a chance."

Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable, that ball of nerves already transforming into a wary kind of fear.

Mari's tapping fingers stopped, before her hand slammed flat to the table. Flicking his attention her way, Adrien was prepared to shy away, but her hard expression wasn't leveled at him. Rather, she was glaring off across the park.

"This is stupid," she finally decided, which didn't exactly make Adrien feel any better. Not that he was expecting to. "If our positions were reversed," she went on, looking at him for the second time, "there's no way you two would even consider letting me go home by myself. If she's really that much of a threat, and that _kind_ of a threat, then you can't be anywhere that she'd be able to corner you.

"You can't stay at your house alone—I won't let you." He could see the way her jaw tightened, and the pointed sharpness that overcame her gaze. "I know you said you didn't want me getting involved, but I don't care. This has become too dangerous and I know if it were me, you'd feel the same way."

Because this wasn't about choice anymore. The time for his decisions had passed and this was the result they were left with. She wasn't limiting him, or doubting, speaking as she was.

She was protecting him in the same way he did her.

That was what they did. She shielded him when she could and he did the same for her. It wasn't an issue of control or choice—not as it was with his father. It was a matter of necessity.

A notion he had no business objecting to.

"Okay," he muttered weakly, nodding a bit as he did. "So what do I do? Just… not go home?" A move that wouldn't be as hard for him to grapple with as it would be others.

"Could do that," Nino agreed. "Just avoid her. But that doesn't exactly solve the problem."

"We need to find Lila," Mari said decisively. "If we can get to her as a civilian, then we have a better chance at being able to retrieve the miraculous."

"How, though?" Nino asked, holding up his wrist—and his own miraculous—as an example. "The chain around her neck is probably just as indestructible as the rest of the miraculous. Just like ours, it's more than just the miraculous stone. And Master Fu told me that even Cataclysm couldn't destroy a miraculous." Meaning that Chat Noir couldn't surprise her and simply obliterate the chain to get the fox tail.

"Queen Bee's comb would certainly be a lot easier to get…" Adrien muttered.

"If we knew who she was," Nino agreed. "But she's not-"

He cut himself off, Adrien watching as Nino's gaze darted back behind his head. Tensing, Adrien turned, easily able to deduce why Nino had clamped his lips down around his words.

Walking toward them, eyebrows furrowed curiously, was Sabrina. She was obviously hesitant, and so Adrien raised a hand and waved, which visibly relaxed her as she picked up her pace toward them.

"I wasn't sure if it was you guys," she explained as she reached them, smiling tentatively as she peered back and forth between them. "You look… different."

Right. They were going through magical training. Nino was already buffing up and had a five o'clock shadow of scruff. Mari was visibly more muscular than before and, though he hadn't allowed himself a close evaluation as of late, Adrien was pretty sure there were other parts of her that were just a bit more exaggerated than before. And, well, he was toning up along with them, though in a much more wiry fashion than Nino.

At least they could use puberty as an excuse. Sort of.

"Just us," Adrien verified, hoping to move quickly past the subject if they ignored it. Turning on a gentle smile, he tried to come off as encouraging as he could. It was a good distraction, something he found himself in constant need of during the last week or so. "What's up?"

"Oh, I was just… going to see Chloe," she explained, fiddling with the edges of her shorts in what appeared to be nervousness. "And when I was passing by, I saw you guys." Though she'd admitted to being doubtful.

"Well don't let us hold you up," Nino said. "We're not doing anything interesting."

"Just dying of heat exhaustion," Mari added lastly.

Smiling tightly, Sabrina glanced again at Marinette and Nino, looking relatively uncomfortable as she did. Before, lastly, setting her entire focus down on Adrien—almost as though she'd put on blinders and was no longer able to see the other two. Which gathered a slight eye roll from Mari. Nino, however, didn't seem to care. Or notice.

"Have you talked to Chloe lately?" she asked.

Adrien's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Me? No, can't say that I have."

"Oh…" Her entire demeanor dropped.

"Why?"

A question that seemed to cause Sabrina some hesitance. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, once again fiddling with the bottoms of her shorts. Until, finally, she met Adrien's eyes again. "Well, it's just that- You've been friends with Chloe a long time, right? Longer than I have…"

"We've known each other since we were kids," Adrien confirmed, though he wasn't sure he'd consider them "friends" these days. He'd pretty much ceased having anything to do with her after she'd smacked Mari.

"It's just…" Sabrina sighed. "She's been acting kind of strange lately…"

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not understanding.

"Truth be told," she went on, still quite sufficiently ignoring the other two, "she hasn't even spoken to me since school ended. Even if I go to the hotel directly, Pierre always ends up turning me away. I'm not sure what it's about, but I think she's just… staying in the hotel. All the time."

Which wasn't exactly Chloe's M.O. Though she lacked social consideration, she'd always been more apt to go out and do something, rather than stay inside.

"I'm worried," Sabrina admitted. "She's not been herself since… since her butler was akumatized. I don't know the details, but I guess Ladybug said something to upset her."

"Ladybug?" Adrien asked, fighting off the urge to look over at Mari. "What did Ladybug say to her?"

"I don't know," Sabrina replied, shaking her head as she did. "Whatever it was, it bothered her. But I'm not sure that's what has her acting like this. It's like she's just… shut herself away."

A statement that immediately set off warning sirens in Adrien's head.

"What do you mean, 'shut herself away?'" he asked seriously.

"Pierre doesn't tell me much, but I guess she hardly leaves her room anymore."

"Does her father know she's acting like this?" he asked almost too hastily.

"I don't…" Sabrina appeared confused at the question. "I don't know. Should he?"

Her answer told Adrien more than enough. If Chloe had wanted Sabrina to know, then she'd understand his meaning. As it was, that hardly mattered.

"You're going to see her now?" he asked.

"Yes." Sabrina nodded. "Um, actually, I was wondering if maybe you'd come with me," she admitted. "She probably won't see me, but- but maybe she'd talk to you?" It sounded like a last ditch effort, but Adrien was already ten steps ahead.

"I'll come," he agreed, offering Sabrina a small smile. "Just, uh, give Nino, Mari, and I a minute, okay?"

Nodding, and looking more than relieved, Sabrina smiled brokenly before turning and heading off toward a bench some ways off. Once she was a safe distance away, Adrien turned in to face the curious looks both Mari and Nino were giving him.

"I need to go check on Chloe," he said quite seriously, daring to be the first one to look at Mari this time. She stared evenly back at him, eyebrows knitted thoughtfully. "What did you say to her?"

What had Ladybug said, rather.

It was a question that caused Mari's lips to purse in displeasure. "It was when I was fighting Papier Machette," she admitted. "You were in danger and she was being… less than helpful." Her gaze fell to the side. "I may have lost control for a moment and said some… nasty things."

Which Adrien was sure Chloe had probably deserved, even if he didn't agree with Mari's approach. But Chloe was oftentimes so cruel that he couldn't place blame. It was unfortunate that Chloe's idol was also the one person she tormented most.

"You think something's wrong?" Nino asked.

"I don't know," Adrien admitted. "Shutting herself away—it worries me. That's what her mother used to do."

"Her mother?" Mari asked, frowning as she did.

Adrien knew it wasn't technically any of their business, but he also knew they wouldn't say anything about it. And he kind of wanted verification that he wasn't overreacting.

"Chloe's mother had her ups and downs. Mostly downs," he explained quietly. "Used to lock herself in her bedroom for days, screaming and crying and just being… unmanageable. She was sick, but Mr. Bourgeois couldn't have his reputation tarnished by her. So he just… hid her away.

His hand balled into a fist atop the table. "Well, one day he let her go too far and she…" He swallowed hard, able to remember quite well the tragedy surrounding the whole event. "It was pretty typical that she'd make the threat, but she never followed through. Until… one day she did."

Nino's lips had parted, Mari's hand rising to cover her own.

"I know we need to talk about Volpina, but I think I should check on Chloe. I doubt her father will be looking in on her, especially of she's acting anything like her mother used to." He wasn't assuming Chloe had issues because her mother had, but it was foolish not to consider both genetic and nurtured factors when it came to such things.

Chloe was cruel and even heartless sometimes, but that didn't mean she deserved to be abandoned.

"Just don't go back to your house after," Nino issued. "We can talk more about how to deal with Volpina later, but you should still stay away from her."

"Yeah, okay," Adrien agreed, beginning to stand as he did. "I'll text you after."

"Sure," Nino replied, standing as well. Mari was also getting to her feet, Adrien watching only momentarily as she focused on the grass beneath their feet. He wanted to say something, to just… verify that maybe what little attention she'd paid to him hadn't been accident—as if to fan a small flame of hope from the ashes. But she didn't look up toward him, and so he had no choice but to accept that, maybe, he'd been making a potential something out of nothing.

Swallowing hard, he flexed his hands at his sides before turning toward Sabrina. He set his sights on his goal, on what he needed to do. That was how he'd made it through the last week. By staying intent on what was in front of him, so he didn't have to think about anything outside his peripherals.

Yet, like an arrow slipping through the cracks in his defenses, her voice pierced right through, his whole body jolting at the sound of his own name on her lips.

"Adrien." She said it softly, as if murmuring a secret. And it sent a violently painful shiver through his whole body.

Smacked nauseous with nerves, Adrien paused in his retreat. Before—like her call was a string tugging him back—he slowly turned.

He didn't face her, not directly. He didn't know why she was saying his name, and so he didn't dare open himself up too fully. Instead, like a scared animal uncertain of its safety, he peered up at her from the corners of his eyes, hunching some as he did.

Waiting for a blow he knew he more than deserved.

She didn't say anything to him, her lips somewhat parted as she looked him quickly up and down. Her own hands were balled into fists at her sides, like she was holding something back, and Adrien dreaded whatever such could possibly be. He didn't want her to cut him off completely—to sweep the ashes away. Wallowing in broken remains of what they'd had was the only comfort he'd come by.

But when she clamped her lips closed and straightened her whole posture, he knew it was coming. And that there was nothing he could do to fight it.

She walked toward him; he hunched further in on himself. By the time she was standing directly in front of him—her gaze filled with resolve—he was practically shying away.

Each heartbeat the pounded in his chest was painful—because each second extended between them reminded him only of how shattered their relationship was.

And so, when she raised her arms, he really did flinch, nails digging into his palms as she reached toward him.

As she slipped her hands under his arms, wrapping them around his back as she stepped fully forward into him. Until her face was buried in his shirt and her body was lining his.

She pulled him in gently, her warmth enveloping him despite how his own chilled tension kept him stiff.

And, honestly, shocked.

She was hugging him. It took his brain a moment, but it was, ultimately, the only conclusion he could come too. Which led him through a series of flitting doubts and questions, all of it topped off with a generous dose of confusion and fear.

But then, like she was the one creating feeling inside him, her arms tightened around him, fingers gripping at the flimsy fabric of his tank top. Her touch blossomed through him, pushing at all his uncertainties and reservations until they had no choice but to evaporate.

Because she was so close, and she was holding him, and it was like all the pieces were clicking back into place after having been mangled and torn apart. She was putting them back together, _choosing_ to, and Adrien knew he had no right to let that slip away through his own disbelief.

Rather, voice choked, a tiny whimper escaped him with the last of his misgivings, his own arms coming to enfold her small form with his. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth against the violent relief that was bursting up from the base of his spine, he hid his nose in her hair and just…

 _Breathed_.

He memorized her—the sunny warmth of her dark hair, the smoothness of those locks against his skin. How easy it was to fit around her, and how she felt pressed so severely up against him. He knew he was holding too tight, but something inside him feared that if he didn't, she'd slip away again.

That he'd wake up to nothing more than a dream of her closeness—something that had haunted him for nights.

How long they stood there he didn't know, though he realized it wasn't more than a minute. But he drank up each second like it was his last, not letting anything distract him from focusing entirely on her. The park, Nino, Sabrina, none of it existed while she let him in—even if she was only barely opening the door.

But it wasn't something he dared force open and, so, when she finally began to pull away, he felt he had no choice but to let it happen. Like his own skin was being ripped away, she separated them, only the gentleness in her expression holding him together.

She smiled—just barely—while he did all he could to keep breathing despite how she stole the air right out of his lungs.

"Text me after you see Chloe, okay?" she murmured, before reaching up and tenderly laying her hand against his cheek. Closing his eyes, Adrien nodded, ready to agree to anything she asked. Turning into her touch, he once again took a deep breath of her, nuzzling into her hand before she began to slip away.

It was like being draped in a cold blanket when she finally backed away completely. It didn't matter that he was sweating from the heat, the world was still chilled without her.

But she held his gaze for some moments longer, her hands clasping behind her back as she stepped away. He took that as a last string of reassurance—a small wave of heat that could, maybe, keep him going a while longer.

Keep that small flame flickering despite having nothing to burn.

Something in the back of his thoughts reminded him that there was a world outside of her—that he had other things to attend to. But he kept the feeling of her at the forefront as long as he could, and so hardly realized when he was trailing Sabrina from the park and down the street. Past the shops, past Master Fu's ruined parlor. Across the street to the Bourgeois hotel.

Until, finally, he and Sabrina stood in the lobby, the air-conditioning on full blast as Adrien blinked himself back into reality.

Right, Chloe.

After, he could text Mari. After, he could think about her. But his current situation required that he push his own problems aside.

Shaking his head, he approached the front desk as Sabrina loitered uncertainly behind him.

"Excuse me?" he started, drawing the clerk's attention. "I'm Adrien Agreste, a friend of Chloe Bourgeois'. Could you let her know I'd like to see her?" A question that clearly exasperated the woman, who peered back at Sabrina in obvious annoyance. As if the question were asked regularly to no avail. "Just tell Pierre I'm here," Adrien added.

Lips pursing, the woman gave in (if only because she had to) before she called up to the correct floor. She explained that Pierre would be down shortly after, and so Adrien and Sabrina stood waiting, saying nothing into the big, empty quiet of the lobby.

It didn't take long for Pierre to arrive, the elevator dinging before he stepped out past the sliding doors.

"Mr. Agreste," he greeted.

"Hey, Pierre," Adrien replied, smiling shortly. He'd known the Bourgeois butler as long as he'd known Chloe, despite Pierre's less than enthused expression at his presence.

"Ms. Bourgeois isn't having visitors," he added a second later, which didn't particularly surprise Adrien any.

"Sabrina explained the situation to me," he said quietly, smile dropping away into total seriousness. "I know I haven't been around lately, but just… let me talk to her." Yet, Pierre didn't look convinced. "You know you can trust me," he persisted. "I get it—you know I do." He'd been there, as had his parents. They were some of the few that knew personally about the Bourgeois scandal, if only because his mother had once been good friends with Chloe's.

Taking a deep breath, Pierre seemed to consider him for some moments, before his slumping disposition gave way to his own acceptance. Adrien knew perfectly well that Pierre was probably worried. It'd been traumatic for them all, what had happened to Chloe's mother. It wasn't a memory one simply forgot, and so Pierre was probably in no rush to be reminded.

"Fine," he verified. "But Ms. Bourgeois has made it quite clear that she has no interest in seeing… others." He looked pointedly at Sabrina. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to remain here."

Appearing only more crestfallen, Sabrina frowned. Feeling for her, Adrien reached out and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. So that would have to do. Pulling away a moment later, he followed Pierre into the elevator, silent as it carried them up.

The floor where the Bourgeoises stayed was quiet as they stepped out. Which, really, wasn't so surprising. The mayor was hardly home and if Chloe really was keeping herself locked away, that left only Pierre to make any racket. Which was something he'd never do.

The place wasn't stifling, not like Adrien's own home, but it was bare. Not in the physical sense, but in its weight and attitude. Heavy with nothing—meaningless. Which was uncomfortable nonetheless. Unlike his house, which had once been warm with his mother's presence, this place had always been hollow.

He and Chloe had spent many hours closed away in corners and smaller rooms, as if they'd been unconsciously hiding from the vacant, unseeing eyes of the lording hotel. Almost as though the whole building were asleep. The only times he remembered feeling different was when the moans and screams of Mrs. Bourgeois would echo down the halls and between the pillars. The draping curtains hadn't been able to stifle it, only the thick walls keeping such haunting laments unknown to the rest of the world.

It was during these times that Pierre had hurried Adrien down into the lobby, where he'd waited for his own mother to come get him,

Sometimes he'd wondered what it'd been like for Chloe, having no choice but to listen.

It didn't take them long to make their way through the familiar corridors to Chloe's wing of the floor. The double doors leading in were closed, but Pierre didn't hesitate in letting them inside. Silently, they made their way past the common area to the draped doorway that led into her bedroom. Gesturing for him to stay back a moment, Pierre headed inside.

"Ms. Bourgeois," Adrien heard him say. "You have a visitor."

"I already said I don't want to see Sabrina," Chloe replied sharply, though her voice was somewhat flatter than usual. "Tell her to go away."

"It's not Sabrina," Pierre corrected. "Adrien Agreste is here to see you."

Pause.

"Tell him to go away too," she decided, Adrien scoffing outside her bedroom. Well, at least she still seemed to have her attitude. That was a comforting thought—in a demented kind of way.

"He's waiting just outside," Pierre explained.

"I don't care," Chloe replied. "I don't want to see him."

And so Adrien decided to take matters into his own hands. Huffing, he stepped in through the doorway, attention easily able to find Chloe amongst the red decor. She was standing over by the windows, arms crossed over her chest as she snapped her own gaze to him.

"You're seriously going to kick me out?" he asked, putting his fists on his hips as he did. Chloe stared evenly back at him, appearing neither pleased nor surprised to see him. "And I came all this way."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and turned away, saying not a word as she shifted her weight from one hip to another and seemingly ignored them.

Sharing a look with Adrien, Pierre nodded before backing out of the room. Taking a deep breath—if only to prepare himself—Adrien stepped further in. Only to be halted in his tracks when Chloe stiffened.

"Don't come any closer," she issued simply, not even bothering to turn in his direction. Stopping on his toes, he wavered for as second, before ultimately deciding not to push the subject. Settling behind her, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jogger shorts, petting Plagg as he did. "What are you doing here?" Chloe asked a second later.

"Uh…" Well, what point was there in lying? "Sabrina's worried about you. She said you haven't exactly been yourself lately."

"Just because I don't want her following me around everywhere I go doesn't mean I'm not myself." Yet she still refused to so much as look at him. Odd, especially when considering how all over him she usually was. "I get tired of her."

Adrien held back a scoff. "You tired of me too?"

"Yes."

No, he hadn't anticipated such a direct and quick answer. Not that her admission was particularly bothersome. But still, that didn't mean it wasn't odd in its abruptness.

"Well…" He tried to think of some way to push the conversation forward. "Does that mean you're tired of everyone lately?"

"Tired of stupid questions and people trying to get into my head!" she snapped, finally turning a glare on him. "Why are you interrogating me?"

"I wasn't," Adrien claimed, raising his hands defensively. "I was just worried, Chlo."

"Worried?" Her tone was cynical, eyes narrowing. "It's been a long time since you've bothered 'worrying' about me."

Adrien frowned, though her words were mostly true. "Chlo, we haven't been close in years," he said directly. "I'm not saying that's not true. But you're still the first friend I ever had." Which meant that, yes, he was concerned. Granted, he'd probably be concerned about anyone, but that was quite beside the point. He had a personal connection in this case, and so that wasn't something he was going to just let go.

"Well, we're hardly friends anymore," she countered. "You haven't had a single thing to do with me since Aunt Clarice disappeared."

Adrien's stare hardened. "My father hasn't exactly given me a loose leash since my mother disappeared, that's true," he replied. "But I told you that and it hardly seems relevant to bring up now." Truth be told, he would have spent more time with her if he'd had the choice (previous to making other friends anyway). Simply put, his father hadn't allowed it. And Chloe knew that perfectly well. There was a reason he'd depended on her when he'd first come to public school—before he'd realized just how terrible she could be. She'd never been so cruel or nasty to him. In fact, her attitude in that moment was probably the worst she'd ever treated him.

"We're not friends anymore, Adrien," she rebuked. "Why don't you go hang out with Nino. Or Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I hear you two are real chummy lately." Whipping back around, she set her focus back on the window.

Adrien, on the other hand, pursed his lips and tried to remain patient. "You sound as though my making new friends is a bad thing."

"Well, naturally, you had to 'make friends' with the one person I _despise_ ," she rebuked. "Not that you've had any interest in my opinions as of late."

He had to hold back growling. "Just because I'm friends with someone you don't like doesn't mean we can't still be friends."

"We're not friends."

"What the hell, Chloe?"

"What?!" she practically shouted, turning toward him again. "We haven't been friends in years! There's no point pretending otherwise. I know I'm done lying to myself. So why don't you just go? I don't want you here and you certainly don't have any business acting like I should!"

"I'm just worried about you!" he said somewhat harshly, his patience beginning to wane in response to her violent outburst.

"You haven't been worried about me before now! And I certainly don't need you to be!"

"That's not fai-"

"I don't care!" she shouted, stomping her foot as she did. "Life's not fair! That's what I was always told! So why should it be different for anyone else?! You think it's fair that you waited this long to come see me?! You think it's fair that Ladybug hates me?! You think it's fair that my father only talks to me when I talk to him first?! You think it's fair that my mother's de-"

"You don't have to tell me how unfair life is, Chloe!" Adrien cut in loudly, somewhat taken aback at how quickly their discourse had escalated.

"Then why don't you just go?!"

"I'm trying to _help you_!"

"I don't need your help!" she screeched. "I've been getting along just fine without you! Without _my_ mom or _your_ mom or _you_! I don't need anyone! I'm strong enough! So just _leave me alone_!"

"Chloe!"

"Get out!" she screamed, gestured harshly toward the door. "Just leave! Now!"

"We all need someone, Chloe! That isn't weakness!"

"I said _get out_! Or I'll call security!" Her chest was heaving, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. The expression was so brutal that Adrien took an unintentional step back. " _Get out now!_ "

"Chlo-"

" _NOW!_ "

"Okay!" he agreed, holding his hands up in front of him as he did. "I'll go!"

She looked so enraged. And, honestly, volatile. He wasn't afraid of her, of course, but such things said a lot about her state of mind, and he honestly had no desire to upset her further. Whether he'd had good intentions or not, it would appear that his presence there was doing her no good. Clearly, there was something wrong—something big—but she wasn't even responding civilly, let alone anything better.

"I'll go," he repeated, calmer this time. "I'm sorry, Chloe." Bowing his head just a little, he backed out the door. She watched him the whole way, lips thin and eyes intent. Almost as though she didn't actually trust him to do as she'd ordered. He had no idea if she returned her attention to the window once he'd left her bedroom, or if she watched where he'd disappeared, waiting for him to try and sneak back in.

He didn't try, too stunned to even consider it. True, Chloe could be nasty and cruel, and she'd even smacked Mari that one time, but this had been different than that. Though he'd no doubt be capable of fending her off, he'd actually been nervous that she'd attack him. He'd faced plenty of physical threats and the way her posture had hunched, leaning toward him, had spoken volumes about her state of mind.

Which only made the whole thing that much more disconcerting. Obviously, there was something up with her, but he had no idea what that was. Aside from the fact that, apparently, Ladybug had said something. But would that really be enough to cause this kind of shift? And if so, why?

Perhaps he should have Ladybug come talk to her. If she was willing.

Mari…

Lips pursing, he glanced only quickly at the curtained doorway again, before ultimately deciding it'd probably be best if he left. Apparently Pierre agreed, as he said nothing when Adrien passed him on his way to the elevator, looking quite content with the situation. Not approving, but not surprised. Likely, he'd been having the most direct contact with Chloe this whole time and so had predicted that Adrien would be kicked out. Sabrina, however, was not nearly so understanding when he explained to her that his attempts to talk to Chloe had been fruitless. She looked nearly on the verge of tears, and so Adrien did his best to offer her comforting words, but they didn't do much good. He walked with her from the hotel, the two passing by the park once again.

Eventually, with a somber farewell, Adrien bid her goodbye, pausing beside a bench to look at his phone. Once Sabrina had moved on out of sight, he sat down and pulled up his long ignored chat window with Mari.

She'd told him to text her, but what did he say?

"Just ask her what she wants," Plagg issued as he stuck his head up out of Adrien's pocket—quite as though he could read his thoughts in his hesitance. "That ought to get the ball rolling."

Maybe so, but Adrien would like to know in exactly what direction the ball was headed before he pushed it.

Still, though, Plagg was right. He had to start somewhere.

Taking a deep breath with his fingers hovering over the screen, he swallowed before forcing himself to type.

_Adrien – You wanted me to text you?_

His heart was already picking up in speed, worry dripping in. But he forced himself to stay calm. Getting worked up when he didn't even know what her intentions were wouldn't help the situation—even if his anxiety tried to imply different.

He almost jumped when those ellipses showed up on the screen.

**Marinette – Do you think you could drop by? I want to talk to you.**

Vague, but more promising than anything she'd said to him recently. Maybe she didn't want to talk to him about anything between them, maybe she did, but it didn't matter as far as he was concerned. She was talking to him, period, and that was an improvement beyond anything he could have thought possible.

_Adrien – Yeah, of course._

**Marinette – Thanks. And come in through the balcony. I'm not feeling all that great and, just**

**Marinette – Just avoid my parents.**

_Adrien – Sure._

Pocketing his phone a second later, he glanced quickly around before ducking behind a few bushes. Calling Plagg (despite how the kwami complained), he transformed before bounding up from a lamppost and onto the roof across the street that lined the interior of the park. Which was, of course, Mari's roof. Easily directing himself to the banister and then onto the balcony, he only hesitated a moment before gulping back his nerves.

Going to the skylight, he gathered his courage and tapped on the glass.

As if she'd been waiting for him, the door lifted almost immediately, Mari appearing as it did. The sight of her—dressed in pajamas now—was almost enough to send Adrien's heart into his throat, but he carefully schooled himself into remaining calm. What he wanted to do was collapse in on her and just… hold her. But that required invitation and so he had to simply settle for fidgeting instead.

"Um…" Mari started, biting her bottom lip as she stared up at him. "Why don't you… come in. It's getting late and I'm just not feeling all that well."

He nodded, taking note that the sun was already creeping toward the horizon. Of course, night or day didn't make much difference to them, but he accepted the excuse anyway. Gladly. She wasn't just talking to him, or meeting his eyes. She was _inviting him inside her bedroom_. Whatever her reasons for doing so, he'd take them—whether they were related to "their" situation or completely arbitrary.

She disappeared a second later, Chat having taken hold of the skylight in order to hold it up. De-transforming as he ducked inside, he closed it as he dropped gently down atop her bed, Plagg a black blur that vanished further into the room. Mari was on the other end, folding down with her legs crossing beneath her.

Gulping against the dryness of his throat, Adrien flicked his attention back and forth between her and the mattress, before coming to the conclusion that he dared not get closer. Head bent as he set his attention fully on her pink comforter, he sat down across from her, their posturing mirrored as he distracted himself with checking the bottoms of his running sneakers for any dirt that could flake off onto her bedding.

They were silent for some moments, which only wound Adrien tighter. Was he supposed to say something? Was that what she expected? If so, then what? He'd say anything, do anything, _be_ anything, she wanted. But he just needed to know what that was.

Her bed was so familiar, as well as the scent of her room.

He missed her so much…

"Look, Adrien," she started suddenly, nearly causing him to jump. Instead, every muscle in his body tensed, accented both by dread for what she could say as well as anticipation. "I don't… really know what to say."

He trailed a finger over her comforter, too cowardly to look up at her. "Just say whatever you really feel," he muttered. "It doesn't matter what it is—I'll understand."

He didn't anticipate the haste with which she'd respond.

"I miss you," she admitted. Her words jolted his attention up, eyes wide as he gaped at her. "I miss _us_. I miss being with you, and talking to you. I just… I just want things to be like they were before." Her breath shook. "I miss my _partner_."

It took all of Adrien's self-control not to collapse in relief, or to reach out for her. He wanted to—desperately—but didn't dare do anything that could upset the situation.

"I miss you too," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to alienate you. Or hurt you. I was being- I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's not right if it's hurting someone that I…" He took a huffing breath. "I don't have a lot of experience with… close relationships. I'm used to being on my own. Which isn't an excuse, but I'm… I'm trying to be better." To realize that a partnership meant they worked together, talked to one another, didn't hide things. It wasn't a question of independence, but merely consideration.

Without his mother, it'd been a long time since there'd been anyone there to think of his feelings. And he'd never really had to do that for anyone but himself before. At least, not on this kind of personal level. He was learning, but he feared that, perhaps, he was moving too slowly.

"I know you are," she replied, voice sounding strained—like she was putting forth just as much self-control as he was. "And I do understand why you… said what you said. I just…" She fiddled with her fingers in her lap. "I've never felt this way before, and it's a lot and I was—I _am_ —afraid. There's so much going on and with one thing after another, I just… got overwhelmed.

"But pushing you away didn't make me feel any better. I don't care about what happened anymore—who was wrong or right. All I want…" their gazes met, her eyes blinking rapidly, "…is my _best friend_ back."

Adrien ignored how his heart clenched. "Thank you," he whispered, voice far more broken then he'd intended. "Thank you, Mari."

She smiled and, in that moment, everything seemed okay again, his world balancing out. He'd screwed up and, maybe, she felt she had too, but that wasn't important anymore. It wasn't a matter of forgetting it'd happened, but simply being able to move past it. Together. If that was what she wanted, then he'd give her that. There was no erasing the hurt, or misery, but it felt better already.

Healing was hard, but if they were together, then he knew they'd be able to manage it. They were partners—best friends—and he loved her. He'd be stronger with her support and he hoped, despite his missteps, that he could provide her the same comfort.

He'd do everything in his power to do so.

"And, um," she glanced away again, biting her cheek as a slight flush washed over her face. "I know we've both… said other things. And I'm not taking any of that back or- or anything. But… I'm not… I'm not ready yet, I don't think." Her gaze was almost shy as she caught his again. "Can we… be like we were, for now? I don't mean forever, just… please?"

Normal didn't exist in their world—so sometimes they had to make it for themselves.

"Yeah," he agreed, having already been nodding. "Of course. Please. Yes." She smiled again, his own chuckle surprising himself. "That's perfect."

"Okay…" She smiled a little wider, Adrien hardly aware of his own grin.

His world wasn't flawless, but it was _right_ again. And that was more than enough for now.

Almost like their relationship had to reset itself, a content silence floated up between them, neither able to wipe the smiles off their faces despite the quiet. Until, finally—like they were taking their first steps back into reality—Mari groaned and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

Bending over, she pushed her face into the comforter and continued to whine.

Adrien cocked a concerned eyebrow, remembering that she'd mentioned not feeling well. "Are you alright?" he asked, leaning forward a bit, before allowing himself to reach out and gently touch her shoulder.

"No," she admitted, voice muffled into sheets as she shook her head. "But I will be." She sounded defeated. "Don't worry about it—just girl stuff."

"Oh," he replied, chuckling a bit and moving his hand to form comforting circles over her back. "I'm sorry, My Lady. I guess even superheroes are victim to mother nature."

She groaned again.

He smirked. "Would you say…" he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "that it's _cramping_ your style?"

"Ugh, you're terrible."

"I'm just trying to make the best of a messy situation," he replied, shrugging. "Silver lining, all that."

"There's no silver lining here."

He laughed. "Well, you'd know better than me, so I'll take your word for it." He continued to rub circles over her back, his own body feeling exhausted yet relaxed—which was a nice contrast to previously. But he wasn't going to focus on that anymore.

Like she wanted, they had to deal with things as they were then.

"Hey, Mari?" he started after a few moments, tone subdued. "Can I… Can I hold you, please?" Was the question odd? He didn't know. He'd missed having her close, feeling her warmth. But if that wasn't part of "this" anymore, he'd understand. She'd said she wasn't ready, and maybe that meant the sort of closeness they'd been tentatively exploring before was out of the question.

Yet, despite his misgivings, she silently nodded against the comforter before raising her head and unfolding from her position across from him. Cringing as she did, and holding her side with one hand, she quickly crawled across the mattress and into his lap.

He chuckled a bit as she curled up there, legs hooked over his right thigh as she burrowed her nose in his shirt. She gripped at the fabric with tight hands, whining softly as she leaned up against him.

Sympathetic to her pain—even if he'd never know it himself—he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Placing his cheek down on the top of her head, he took a deep breath of her, closing his eyes as he did.

"Did you text Nino?" she asked a second later.

"Mmm, no," he replied. "Probably should."

Her fingers flexed against his chest. "You could- you could stay here tonight," she offered quietly. "If you want to."

His heart somersaulted in his chest, the feeling a pleasant experience for the first time in over a week.

"I want to," he said. He'd still have to text Nino, which would mean he'd have to explain where he was staying (since he probably would have been sleeping over at Nino's place otherwise). But, honestly, he didn't care. Nino could think what he wanted; Volpina could show up at his empty bedroom. None of it mattered.

Breathing deeply, he allowed himself to be selfish—to indulge in only her. It was true, his world was small, but she was the biggest piece in it.

"I'm sorry," he murmured a moment later, holding her even closer as he did.

He felt her nose nuzzle against his chest.

"Me too," she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm really tired. Sorry if there are a lot of mistakes, huuuuu.
> 
> Go Sabine! Way to be on top of things. Best mom.
> 
> Chloe... :/
> 
> Part Two will be a total of 12 chapters, so one more chapter and we're halfway! Woooo!
> 
> Also, I'll be changing my AO3 name to SKayLanphear to match my tumblr, just so you all know :D


	16. Part Two - When in Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! If you're sensitive to consent issues, some things happen at the end of this chapter. Nothing explicit, but, ya know, just lettin' ya know. This is NOT the sexual content warning. This is different. But I don't know how to tag it because it's not actually... Whatever. WARNING!

This was not how Adrien had expected to wake up.

Well, okay, that wasn't completely true. Generally speaking, he woke up in the same predicament every morning, but usually he was alone. Or, at least, the few other times he'd slept over at Mari's house, he'd been the first one awake and so hadn't been faced with the consequences otherwise.

Waking up in her bed, with her not sleeping beside him, and with no covers to hide his situation, left his eyes wide with panic as he stared at the bulge protruding up from his pants. Swallowing hard, he sat up, staring between his legs in horror as his blood ran cold. Which, of course, quickly started the deflation process. But that wasn't the point!

The _point_ was that Mari wasn't beside him, which meant she was _awake_! And that she had, most likely, noticed the situation. Not like there'd been anything discreet about it. And right after she'd made it clear she didn't want to be considering things like that. Granted, this wasn't exactly due to sexual initiations—it just kind of happened no matter what—but that didn't mean it wasn't inherently suggestive.

What if she was disgusted by him? What if she never let him cuddle close to her again?

Treacherous body! Why?!

Whining quietly, he covered his flushed face with his hands, eyes still heavy with sleep as he willed away whatever was left of the activity in his jogger shorts. He usually liked to think that, for a teenage boy who made a habit of wearing tighter pants, he had pretty good self-control. But now any kind of reputation for such that he could have claimed with Mari was _ruined_.

He'd always tried so hard not to be the stereotypical, out of control boy that he'd always been taught was unacceptable. Yet, his own physiology had betrayed him anyway! Mari was never going to come close to him again!

What would he even say to her?

Not that he had time to try and figure it out. It was in the middle of his panic that Mari stepped out of her small bathroom, heading across the room below. She was still dressed in her own pajamas—shorts and a tank top—and nearly stumbled over the bottom step on her way back up.

It was still one hour before they had to be up, which meant she was coming back to bed.

That was a good sign, right? She wasn't avoiding him.

He didn't have the time to come to a solid conclusion. Instead, he was caught staring at her from between his fingers as she crouched down on the end of the bed. She'd looked like she was going to crawl back up beside him, but upon seeing him sitting there—no doubt a rich shade of red from his shoulders upward—she paused.

Blinking, they stared silently at one another for a few seconds. Before, despite her sleepy disposition, Mari giggled, clearly trying to hide her grin and failing.

Adrien groaned and pulled his legs up so he could hide his face between his knees. "I'm sorry," he muttered, folding his arms around his head in the same moment. It was the shifting of the mattress that told him she was crawling closer. Until she was sitting beside him.

"You don't have to be sorry," she replied, poking him in the side as she did. "You can't help it, right?"

An excuse that only pulled another groan from his throat.

"And, hey, it's not like this is the first time," she continued. Her claim only mortified him further. He'd thought he'd been so careful! "I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes. And, well, you're a boy, so… Don't worry, I researched it."

"Oh my _god_ …" he moaned, turning away from her to flop face down in the cat pillow nearby. "I'm _so sorry_."

More giggling. "Poor kitten," she consoled, rubbing his arm as he tried to sink into the mattress and disappear. "You can't help it, I know that. Though I was a little startled the first time I saw it, I'll admit."

"Just kill me now," he said brokenly, voice somewhat muffled against the bedding.

"Don't say that!" she scolded, laughing as she did. "We're both victim to mother nature, that's all." She tapped his shoulder lightly. "No need to be such a baby about it."

A comment that drew his gaze her way. Pouting, he twisted his head until he could peer up at her, though he remained lying on his stomach. She simply smiled and shrugged, which only made him frown all the more.

"It doesn't happen _only_ when I'm here," he tried to explain. "It happens all the time, whether you're here or not." Which sounded like a good defense until the words left his mouth, eyes once again growing wide in response to the furrowed brow that had come crashing down across her face. "I-I mean, not that- not that you _don't_ cause- It's different! I mean, sometimes it is because of you! But not all the time! Some- sometimes it is. But I don't do anything about it! I don't think about you like that!"

Yeah, there was definitely something a little offended in her expression, despite the flush that had washed up across her own cheeks. He shouldn't have said anything! Now she really did think he was a pig!

"I-I mean, I don't think about those things _at all_!" he lied. "Not about you, anyway. Haha. Wait, no!" He brought his hand up and drew it down his face in frustration. "I don't think about anyone when it comes to those things! Like, doing things when I'm alo- I don't- Never!" Which was a very unrealistic claim and her skeptical eyebrow knew it. "That's not- sometimes! Sometimes I do! But never about anyone _else_ other than- But not- Shit. Uh, I do- I do sometimes. But only you! And not often! Oh god!"

Had he just admitted to masturbating while thinking about her?

Yes. Yes he had.

"It's really not that often!" he continued to blunder. "Like, not that I _don't_ think about you a lot- but I have- It's not-"

"Shhh," she interrupted, placing a delicate finger across his lips. "Just stop talking."

Covering his eyes with his hand—because he didn't deserve to look at her—he let another panicked whine escape his lips. Before he pulled away. Turning his face into the sheets, he covered his head with his arms and tried to pretend like he wasn't even there.

"Hey, Adrien," she called a second later. "It's okay." Her hand was touching his shoulder again. "I didn't mean- I'm not bothered by it. I was just trying to…" She sighed. "I just know that I wish someone would tell me to close my mouth when I'm nervous, that's all. Please don't be upset." Her hold tightened a bit. "Kitty…"

He dared to look up at her from just one corner of his eye. "Sorry…" he said sheepishly.

Another smile. "You're cute," she finally decided. "It's nice that I'm not the only one who loses control of my words when I'm nervous." Reaching out, she poked him lightly on the cheek.

"You don't really get nervous that often, at least, not around me. Not anymore," he said, more than willing to embrace the subject change. He'd seen her upset, and frantic even. But nervous wasn't something he'd generally use to describe her—not since he'd gotten to know her. He wouldn't use it to describe himself either, but that was beside the point.

"Uh, well, yeah, not anymore," she replied, fiddling with her fingers as she stared down at the sheets. "I used to get _super_ nervous around you…"

"Why?" he asked honestly, finally removing himself from the security of being face down in order to turn on his side.

"Er, well, uh…" Her cheeks flushed anew, a small cringe accenting her lips. "You were just, um, I was- It only happened w-when you would try and talk to me- I mean! When I would try and talk to you. Or when you were talking to me—either one I guess. I'd start to, um, st-stutter and I could never mean what I say- say what I mean! Ugh!" She slammed her hand over her face. "Like right now…"

"Why are you nervous _now_?" he asked, finally able to push back on his own mortification in order to grin. Leaning up, he cocked his head in amused curiosity.

"Because you're asking me about it!" she blurted, before taking a huffing breath. "It doesn't matter! You already know!" She rolled her eyes—seemingly at herself.

"That doesn't mean I know what you're talking about, specifically," he replied.

"It was… before," she mumbled, lips somewhat pooched. "Before we knew that we were, you know, who we are."

"Before we revealed ourselves. Yeah, I know," he verified, still perplexed by her reasoning. "But we hardly ever talked before that anyway. I mean, I noticed you'd sometimes get nervous around me, but I could never figure out why." It'd been part of the reason he'd feared she didn't like him in the first place. But she'd assured him that wasn't the case.

She muttered something, voice so subdued that—even at their close proximity—he couldn't hear her.

"What?"

More muttering.

"Mari, I can't hear what you're saying."

" _I could never talk to you because I had a big fat crush on you!_ " she hissed, before slamming her hands over her lips. Face flaring, she stared wide-eyed at him for only a few seconds before she grabbed a pillow and—rather violently—shoved it into his face.

The blow knocked him backward, Adrien unable to properly defend himself and so ended up shying away, fumbling with the pillow trying to suffocate him. Tossing it aside, he pushed his hair out of his face and set his focus back on Mari. She'd flopped down, her back to him as she curled up into the fetal position.

And so their situations were reversed.

Despite her apparent embarrassment, however, Adrien was filled with warmth at her admission. No, that was never what he'd considered her reasoning was for having kept her distance. Or, so it sounded, for having had such a hard time approaching him. But, though he knew he loved her and she loved him—whether they were acting on it or not—it was somehow… comforting. Because it meant that she'd had feelings for him just as long as he had her. Even if they'd been blinded by their own ignorance.

Grinning, he got on all fours before reaching out, so one of his hands was supported on the banister surrounding her bed. In this way, he was leaning over her, peering down at her sour expression as his hair dangled around his forehead like a curtain.

"You had a crush on me, Bugaboo?" he teased.

"It's a development I've come to regret as of late," she said flatly, before moving onto her stomach and burying her face in another pillow.

Adrien chuckled, leaning back a bit before he lay down beside her. On his stomach as well, their sides were flush against one another, Adrien's head propped up in one hand as his other preoccupied itself with sifting through her loosened, messy pigtails.

"Is that why you were so shocked when you found out I was Chat Noir?" he asked quietly, his elbow resting on the same pillow she had her face buried in. Which meant that he was close—very close—and could see every speckle and sparkle in her blue eyes when she turned to look up at him.

"Mmm, I don't know," she replied quietly. "It was… more complicated than that. I think I was mostly just… ashamed that I hadn't figured it out. Chat Noir was one of my best friends and Adrien was this boy I thought I'd liked, yet I hadn't figured out they were the same person? It just seemed like I'd… treated you unfairly somehow."

"Well, I'm flattered, really," he assured. "Especially since I always figured Chat Noir was _way_ cooler than Adrien."

"Yeah, right," she rebuked. "Turns out you're just one big, giant dork. Nothing cool about either of your personas."

"Why do you say such cruel things?" he asked, feigning offense.

"Because they're true," she replied. "Besides, if you were cool, then I wouldn't stand a chance against all your fangirls."

"And I'm supposed to stand a chance against all of yours?" he asked incredulously. " _Ladybug_."

"Of course," she replied easily, pausing for a moment before she continued. "You're Chat Noir, Ladybug's partner. Who else could stand a better chance?"

"Adrien Agreste?" he offered cheekily.

"They cancel each other out."

"And what's _that_ mean, exactly?"

"It means that…" She shrugged against the mattress. "That I like every part of you, so it doesn't matter anyway." Glancing down at the pillow, she appeared shy despite how her words caused Adrien's grin to pull into a full-blown smile.

"Well, I always thought Marinette was amazing," he murmured, cuddling closer as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled his nose against her hair. "So it wasn't that hard to accept that, in falling in love with Ladybug, I'd fallen in love with her too." Closing his eyes, he sighed against her.

"Adrien…" she said a moment later, voice barely above a whisper. "Can you say that again?"

"What?" he asked. "That I love you?"

"No, not… not that."

"That I'm… _in_ love with you?"

He felt her nod into the pillow.

"I'm _in_ love with you, Marinette," he murmured shortly after.

They lay there for a few minutes, saying nothing and merely listening to the sounds of the other breathing. Until the slight shake in Mari's intake told him she was about to speak.

"I'm sorry I'm so afraid," she started, voice somewhat strained. "I'm sorry that how much I- I love you scares me. I'm sorry I can't… that I can't love you properly."

"Properly?" he asked, nose still buried in her hair. "I think if one of us has been screwing this up, it's me. Besides, there's nothing 'improper' about what we are now. I don't want anything more than you're ready to give. There's nothing lacking here. Don't ever think that. And don't ever feel pressured to do anything you're not comfortable with—no matter the reason.

"I didn't fall for you all those months ago just to give up now. Whatever you need, Mari—whatever I can help you with—just tell me. And if there's nothing, and this is how we'll always be, then it's enough. It's more than enough."

More than he deserved. As far as he was concerned, the entire reason she was struggling was his fault. He'd hurt her—violated more than her trust—and now they both had to pick up the pieces. What was scattered between them was sharp and jagged, and he knew it'd be hard for her to hold those shards. He wanted to help, would harbor every rough edge if she'd let him, but such things would only stretch as far as she was willing to go. She was letting him back in, which he considered a blessing all on its own. He wouldn't push her further, and would only put himself where she wanted him.

Anything outside of that he considered abusing a privilege he really had no right to in the first place.

"It's _not_ enough—you deserve more," she murmured, nosing deeper into her pillow. "And I'm sorry."

She sounded so broken, her tone like a fist tightening inside Adrien's chest.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, holding her even closer. "Please don't be sorry."

She loved him, whether it was complicated or not. That wasn't something he wanted her to feel guilty over. Maybe it was a fault in him, that he'd take anything she was willing and capable of giving, but it was a truth he believed in. And whatever it was that she _could_ give, she didn't need to apologize for it. Never that.

They stayed quiet for what remained of their time in bed, Adrien with his eyes closed as Mari rested against him. When her phone started to buzz—telling them it was time to get moving—Adrien found himself less enthused with having to get up than usual. Being a morning person didn't make him any more apt to want to leave her. But they had responsibilities, training being one of them. Besides, it wasn't like he wouldn't see her twenty minutes after he left.

And so, with a heaving sigh, he pulled himself from around her before slipping on his shoes and calling quietly to Plagg. With his kwami perched on his shoulder, he reached up to open the skylight, taking a second to look back. Mari remained lying on the bed, watching him, and they shared small smiles before he finally tore his eyes away and headed up onto the balcony.

Once out in the early morning, he stretched against the heat before transforming. He didn't hop up onto the roof, however, and sprint his way home. Rather, leaping over the banister, he used his transformation only to ensure a safe landing before he bounded down the street a ways and ducked up into a doorway. It was still early, and so not very many people were out, which ensured that his de-transformation went unnoticed. With Plagg safely tucked in his pocket, he moseyed his way back out into the street, looking around searchingly once he reached the crosswalk that would lead over to his own house.

"Enjoy your night?" Nino asked as he joined Adrien from the street perpendicular, his attention trained his on phone. They'd agreed the night before—via text—that Nino would go with him when he went home to change. He may have managed to avoid Volpina the night before, but if she had decided to stop by, there was no telling how she'd react to his absence. The general consensus made was that Adrien was no longer allowed to be at his house alone at all. And while Adrien didn't really like the idea, he understood why having a friend would ensure his better defense. Volpina was less likely to barge in if she thought he had guests.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Adrien asked as they both headed over the crosswalk leading to the mansion. It was only once they were halfway across the street that Nino pocketed his phone.

"You know exactly what it means," he rebuked. "You spent the night at Mari's." As if that should be self-explanatory.

"We're not like that," Adrien replied, tone somewhat guarded.

Nino sighed, the two of them stepping up onto the sidewalk that ran along the mansion wall. "What exactly _are_ you two like, then?" he asked straight. "I can't figure you guys out."

"There's nothing to figure out," Adrien defended, shrugging as he did. "This isn't the first time I've spent the night at her house. But we don't do anything… like that." Because Nino's implication was pretty obvious.

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why don't you do anything?" Nino asked. "Look, I know you two have been fighting this last week, but you made up, right? You telling me that didn't include make-outs or something?"

Adrien scoffed, despite how his cheeks flushed. "Look, I realize we're talking about Ladybug and Chat Noir, but I'm serious when I say we're not like that. We weren't before and we're not now."

"So… you two aren't together?" Nino asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"No, we're not. At least, not like that."

They'd come upon the main gate, Adrien punching in the code and allowing his fingerprint to be scanned, which prompted the gates to unlock.

"Okay… but you are _something_ ," Nino deduced, the two of them heading into the front courtyard.

"We're just… We're nothing. I mean, we're not, like, 'available,' but we're also not together." Not like he was going to go out dating other girls. He supposed that, in a way, he and Mari _were_ in a relationship. But she didn't want it to be a romantic relationship. It left them in a sort of limbo in-between—something that had no label. "We're like the opposite of friends with benefits," Adrien ultimately decided.

"So…" They were making their way up the stairs to the front door. "You're committed, but not… in a relationship?"

"Yeah, that."

"Wha…?"

Adrien ignored the inquiring sound, instead distracting himself with pushing his way through the front double doors. And maybe Nino would have persisted in questioning him further, but they were both struck silent, as well as still, when their eyes caught on the pair standing at the bottom of the front stairs.

One of the men was Gabriel, which wasn't so surprising—it _was_ his house. It was the other who took Adrien aback. Dressed in a brown suit, he stood tall beside Gabriel, lips slightly parted as though he'd been in the midst of speaking. His pale hair was combed to the side, sharp eyes snapping to the intruders along with Gabriel's.

It took Adrien a moment to remember his name. He and Ladybug had encountered two men the night they'd broken into the Louvre. One had been Mr. Kubdel and the other had been a man called "Baines." It was the latter that stood at the bottom of the stairs with Gabriel, a single large, yellow envelope held in his hands.

"Adrien," Gabriel said, as stiff and serious as ever. He didn't even bother acknowledging Nino. "You're up awfully early." His tone was unimpressed, as he knew perfectly well that Adrien hadn't been home that night. Which, of course, made Adrien immediately defensive.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he made sure to hide his ring as he stared steadily back at his father. Baines likely wouldn't recognize the jewelry, but it made Adrien self-conscious simply by default of the man's job. Best to not take a chance, especially if Baines was as interested in miraculous history as Mr. Kubdel.

"Nino and I were working out," he lied. "Who's this?" He nodded to Baines.

Gabriel glanced pointedly back at his companion. "This is Richard Baines. He's a historian at the Louvre." Baines nodded their way in silent greeting. "He's here to give me what he could find of obscure European fashions from the 1930s. Before he returns to work."

The two men were looking at one another again, Gabriel holding out a single hand. It took Baines a moment, but he did ultimately hand over the large envelope. Adrien knew his father was a bully, so the obvious tension between the two wasn't all that unexpected. It was probably Gabriel's fault, if Adrien's experience told him anything.

Folding the envelope under his arm, Gabriel took in Baines' gaze only a second longer, before he made a point of looking away. It was a dismissal—a motion Adrien was very familiar with.

Jaw clenching some, Baines remained as he was for only a moment, before giving in to Gabriel's attitude. Saying nothing, he nodded once in the direction of each of the other three before he straightened his suit jacket and headed off across the room. He passed Nino and Adrien closely, but didn't acknowledge them as he did. Dress shoes tapping against the tile floor, he was soon pushing his way out.

It was only once the front door clicked closed that Adrien set his attention back on his father. But only because he'd felt those heavy blue eyes on him first.

"Are you going to take up the habit of spending your nights elsewhere once again?" Gabriel dared to ask, Adrien frowning at his tone.

"I really don't see how that's any of your business," he rebuked, ignoring the wide-eyed surprise Nino threw his way. He was far more intent on keeping eye contact with his father.

"Of course you don't," Gabriel almost snapped, his voice straining against his forced control. "You're too busy listening to the sound of your own self-righteousness to bother hearing what anyone else has to say."

A comment that stung despite how Adrien tried to fight off the sensation. If there was anything he hated, it was when his father was right. He'd realized his mistakes, however, and though he and his father had shared in many disagreements as of late, he did stand by most of what he'd said during them. Those weren't the arguments he'd come to regret.

"And I wonder who I learned that from," Adrien settled on saying. It was a comment that caused his father's eyes to narrow, the space between them practically sparking with static.

"I've lived long enough to speak from experience," Gabriel eventually replied. "Tell me, where did you stay last night?" He nodded to Nino. "With him? Or with Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Once again, none of your business."

"You know, there's usually a reason why parents prefer their sons don't spend their nights with female classmates."

Adrien crossed his arms over his chest. "Good thing then that you're hardly qualified to dole out those reasons."

Gabriel took a huffing breath. "I hope you're using protection."

"Seriously?" No, Adrien really didn't have a whole lot of patience for his father's accusations these days. "Just how incompetent do you think I am? Marinette is my partner and we're both very much aware of the responsibilities we have. We're not about to allow that to be jeopardized—negligence is never justified." He gave his father a pointed look before continuing. "While I understand that you and I don't agree on most points, a little faith in my ability to be an intelligent human being would be appreciated."

"So far you haven't done a whole lot to prove that supposed intelligence."

"Why? Because I disagree with you? Because you think I'm 'foolishly throwing my life away?' That's not a matter of intelligence, it's a matter of differing opinions."

"A difference that could very well get you killed."

Adrien sighed, beyond frustrated they were going through this again.

"Look, I get it, but it doesn't matter how many times you tell me how reckless you think I am, I'm not giving up my ring." He and Mari were a team—a sentiment he'd had to relearn as of late, sure, but true nonetheless. "I won't abandon my responsibilities or her," or Nino for that matter, or Master Fu. Or Plagg. "I know what that feels like, so I'm not about to do it to anyone else."

Yes, he was intentionally adding more meaning to his words—he knew his father was smart enough to catch on. Hopefully, he'd be reminded of just how little influence he'd earned when it came to the decisions Adrien made for himself.

Or maybe that was simply too much to hope for.

"I can't change your opinion of me," Gabriel replied coldly, "but I've seen the consequences of your actions, as well as felt them, and you'd do good to learn from the mistakes of others before you, lest you have to learn your lessons the hard way. Or not at all, if you rob yourself of that chance."

"You're that determined I'm going to die?" Adrien asked straight. "You have that little belief in our ability to succeed?"

"Success is short-lived. No battle, no war, is ever truly won. The better option is to avoid the conflict altogether—one never comes out unscathed." His father's certainty sounded more like a threat than advice, which only caused Adrien to bristle further.

"Unscathed or not, that doesn't mean it's not worth it."

Gabriel pursed his lips, appearing only stiffer, if at all possible. "You sound so much alike." His words were clearly not complimentary. "I should have known."

"Known what?" And who did he sound like, for that matter? Gabriel had already made it previously clear that he wasn't referring to Adrien's mother.

"Known you'd never listen to reason," Gabriel rebuked. "He never did either."

" _Who?_ "

Gabriel, despite the rising temperatures between them, still managed to turn the whole atmosphere cold. Flicking his attention from Adrien, his expression closed up even further—like a bucket of ice-water being splashed over a fire.

"My brother," he finally said, refusing to make eye contact again. "He refused to listen, and so paid the price."

It was a statement that shocked Adrien, despite his anger. He'd never known Gabriel had a brother, living or not irrelevant. A dead uncle seemed like something someone would reasonably know about, and yet he'd never heard a word ever spoken about this man. It threw him for a loop, and so he wasn't able to find a proper response. Which left Gabriel enough room to swoop in and take the upper hand.

"Lately," Gabriel continued, glancing pointedly in Adrien's direction, "you've begun to look more like him than you ever have your mother."

The words were an insult. Though Adrien couldn't dissect why, he knew it to be true. There was no questioning the statement, however. With a swift turn, Gabriel was stalking away. Helpless to come up with a proper rebuke, Adrien could do nothing but stare after as he made his way through the double doors leading into the study. And when the door clicked closed behind, Adrien only felt all the more like he'd somehow lost.

It didn't make any sense—there was no winning or losing. But perhaps that was the whole point, which left Adrien on the side of ignorance.

But, then again, that was how his father always made him feel, so perhaps it was simply habitual.

"Um… wow," Nino said after a few moments of silence had passed. "Damn."

Adrien pursed his lips and stared at the floor.

"So…" Nino's voice, though quiet, only seemed accented by the loud echo of the empty room. "Your dad knows you Chat Noir? And that Marinette is Ladybug?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Adrien clipped, before turning and heading up the stairs. "Let's just get what we came for so we can leave." He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I hate this place."

"A-alright," Nino agreed, hopping up the stairs behind him.

Adrien appreciated that he didn't comment any further on the matter.

**oOo**

She was _not_ upset.

It wasn't like she'd expected anything, after all. She didn't seek out misery in the hopes that it'd grant her new powers or change her uniform. In fact, this was probably good—she didn't want to be rewarded every time she and Adrien hurt one another.

But… it _was_ disheartening. Not that she was jealous of Chat, but it did make her feel as though she'd somehow missed something in comparison.

His suit hadn't gone through any life-altering changes, but she knew—based on their previous experience with such things—that even small alterations could mean a great deal. The end of his tail was now ombre—fading from back to red. And two thin lines were newly bent over his well-muscled arms from the tip of the pre-existing red stripe to his outside elbows. But what was most significant was his neckline. No longer did it zip all the way up to his throat. Rather, it was somewhat open, revealing his neck and collar, and lined with black fur. The bell remained, but it sat lower on his chest, acting as an anchor point for the fur atop the thicker red stripe crossing his chest.

It was very flattering on him, actually, but only accented further the fact that Marinette's uniform had remained the same since it's last change. She could only deduce that any alteration was due to their previous "fight," yet it'd seemingly had no effect on her.

At least, not when it came to being Ladybug. She knew the truth otherwise.

Changed or not, however, she had little time to be pondering such things. It would be just their luck that, despite the slow appearance of akumas lately, one would show up during the first day off she and Chat had gotten since training had begun.

Nino and Master Fu were out of town—taking some kind of guardian training trip into the Pyrenees Mountains—which meant that Ladybug and Chat Noir were on their own. Not that they couldn't handle an akuma just the two of them—they'd been doing it for months before Tortue de Fer had come onto the scene—but it was just ironically natural that such a thing would happen.

"Just like old times," Chat muttered, grinning as they vaulted from the street up onto a nearby roof. Ladybug rolled her eyes good-humoredly, pushing her doubts to the back of her thoughts.

Before them, hovering some twenty feet above Paris' rooftops, was the akuma. Thankfully, his costume was pretty simple, so singling out that which could potentially be possessed was easier than with some akumas previously. On his head was a white top hat, his shoulders shrouded in a matching cloak that tied in the front and dropped down below his hovering feet. Underneath the fluttering fabric he wore only a pearly elastic suit that stretched from his heels to his throat.

"You two are so predictable," he said upon spotting them. Not like they were trying to be inconspicuous, after all. He floated a bit closer, chin held high in an elitist fashion. His attitude told Ladybug a considerable amount. Overly arrogant akumas (they were _all_ generally arrogant) tended to be the types to take matters into their own hands, which could be both good and bad for the two heroes.

"The same could be said for you guys," Chat rebuked, winking as he spun one of his staves loosely in his hand. Shortly after, he broke it in half with a simple flick of his wrist, before twirling the nunchacku around like a propeller. "I assume you're after the same thing you always are? Well, if that's the case, come and get us."

"Your attitude does you ill," the akuma said simply. "I'm unlike any foe you've faced before." He raised his hands out before him, a motion that spurred Ladybug to grip her yoyo tighter in anticipation. "I'm the White Rabbit and you stand no chance against my power."

"White Rabbit, huh?" Chat asked, side-eying Ladybug before promptly waggling his brows. "Cats eat rabbits, you know."

"They'll also eat Ladybugs, if they feel so inclined," she pointed out.

Chat stopped spinning his nunchacku, before leaning in close. One of those wide, Cheshire smiles pulled at his lips. "Sounds _delicious_ ," he purred.

Ladybug sighed. "I guess I kind of walked into that one," she admitted.

"Enough!" the akuma shouted, scowling in irritation. "While I may specialize in tricks, this is no joke!" Abruptly, his hands glowed a flashy red, eyes turning the same hue—which put both Chat and Ladybug on guard. "Guillotine!"

Seemingly from nowhere, two square blades came rushing out of thin air on either side of the akuma. Their sharp edges glinted in the limited sunlight, Ladybug easily back-flipping out of the way while Chat did the same. The blade—which would have been just at neck level—rushed past and impaled a chimney behind. The blow cracked some of the bricks, those sharpened edges jutting out as the two heroes glanced back in alarm.

"Yikes," Chat said, reaching up to dramatically grip around his throat. "Be on guard, My Lady. Don't want to lose our heads over this one."

Taking his warning to heart—despite the pun—Ladybug stared critically up at the akuma before making a decision. "I bet it's in the hat," she said as Chat bounded up next to her.

"I'll second that," he agreed. "So what's the plan?"

"Back to the old one-two?" she asked, smiling.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Mock-saluting her, Chat spun and headed off toward the akuma, nunchacku once again spinning as he vaulted right front and center.

Leaving it to him to distract the threat, Ladybug glanced quickly around in an effort to figure out a plan. Unfortunately, just as she was about to jump one roof over and out of the direct confrontation, she was forcefully yanked to a halt.

"Asrah Levitation!" the White Rabbit had shouted, Ladybug's eyes widening in surprise when what felt like invisible strands of wire strapped themselves around her wrists and ankles. A moment later, she was flipped up into the air, dragged upward by her foot. She shouted out in alarm, which immediately drew Chat's attention her way.

"Ladybug!" he shouted, taking only a few steps closer before the entire Paris landscape was pulled out from under her. With a single toss, the anchors on her wrists and ankles were released, her body thrown back behind the akuma and up into the Paris sky.

Thankfully, she was more than accustomed to such heights. Teeth gritting, she threw her yoyo out even as her body was flung violently away. She caught the very chimney that was erected behind where she'd previously been standing. Body snapping, she dove back down toward the roofs.

Just in time to see Chat—who'd become distracted with her—suffer at the hands of yet another unique attack.

"Aztec Lady!" the akuma shouted, a large wooden box appearing out of nowhere. It opened as it rushed toward Chat. He tried to vault out of the way, but the box was like a charging bull and had clamped down around him before he could get away.

Dropping violently out of the sky, the box clattered loudly atop a nearby roof, Ladybug's heart surging into her throat as she sling-shotted around the chimney and aimed her landing for the box.

"This is one of my favorite tricks," the White Rabbit said, floating closer as Ladybug skidded down on front of the box. Scowling, she glanced quickly at the akuma, only to notice that—with a simple stretching motion of his hands—he'd produced a long, curved blade. "Once I'm through with you two, all of Paris will know me as the greatest magician to have ever existed." He pointed the blade at her. "They'll have no choice but to believe it."

Huffing, Ladybug whipped her attention back around to the box.

"Chat?!" she called, but the box was both silent and still. Which sent her pulse racing. It wouldn't be the first time some kind of trap had sent them off into some other "dimension" or containment area. What if he couldn't get out? What if he was in danger?

The very thought was, abruptly, too much for her to bear.

"Lucky Charm!" she shouted, throwing her yoyo up into the air. It flashed, before dropping a red and black-spotted pry bar into her hands. Flipping the tool around, she was just about to shove the flat end in along a crease in the box when the swishing of a blade through the air forced her to jump back.

The sword came down hard on box, splintering the wood as the White Rabbit landed. Ladybug scowled, but didn't have the time to linger on her fury. Within the moment, the akuma was yanking the blade from the wood and raising it up above his head—as though to stab down through the box.

Eyes popping, Ladybug dropped the pry bar, grabbed her yoyo, and quickly split it in half. Flashing, the pink staff surged forth, Ladybug twisting it just in time to swish it over the box. The blade came down hard, but she parried the blow, causing the White Rabbit to stumble back as his own force rebounded back at him.

He staggered back over the edge of the box, Ladybug handing her staff over to one hand as she retrieved the pry bar. Pushing forward, she shoved the end of the staff into the akuma's stomach, teeth gritting as she forcefully shoved him away. He flailed back, cloak billowing as she pushed him over the edge of the roof.

Floating up into the air, he growled, but Ladybug was already moving on. Still holding her staff in one hand, she wedged the pry bar into the crease with the other. Readying herself to rip it apart, she gathered her strength.

But she still wasn't fast enough.

"You stand no chance against me!" the White Rabbit howled, before bounding down upon the box again. Which forced Ladybug to vault back so as to avoid the blade he thrust out toward her. Gripping the staff and pry bar tighter in frustration, she eyed the box again, heart beating fast in distress.

She had to get Chat out! There was no way of telling where he actually was or what was happening. And this ridiculous akuma kept getting in the way!

Yet, even as the frustration was crossing her thoughts, both she and the akuma were jolted in surprise. Hopping back off the box, the akuma held his blade out before him, scowling as the container rattled. A second later, four sharp, black tips broke through the wood, before they ripped down from the underside.

Four slash marks splintered against the top, before their edges curled out like burning paper. Black and shriveling, the top of the box withered away, until the claw marks weren't marks at all, but a gaping hole big enough for Chat to surge up out of.

Ladybug hadn't even realized she was holding her breath until the sight of him sent her tension springing away.

"Chat!" she called. He was still standing in the box, staring contemplatively down at his claws. At the sound of her voice, however, he turned his head over his shoulder.

His smile spreading over his face seemed to rock everything back into perspective.

"Apologies, My Lady," he said, hopping out of the box before turning his attention on the akuma. "Cats can't resist boxing themselves in sometimes. Make any headway?"

Ladybug glanced quickly down at the pry bar. "Ah…"

Abruptly, she realized just how wasteful it'd been to use her powers as she had. Chat had gotten out of far worse, as had she, and she should have set her focus on purifying the akuma, not freeing Chat. He had his own abilities at his disposal. And even if he hadn't been able to escape, purifying the akuma would have fixed everything.

She'd lost such things somewhere along the way, the realization chilling her from one end of her spine to the other.

Yes, her emotions had gotten the better of her a few times before, but never like this. Her distress hadn't interfered with her work this badly since her first attempts at being Ladybug. How had she slipped back into that? And how had she become so panicked that she hadn't been able to pull herself back?

"Ladybug?" Chat questioned, her gaze darting up to his own.

They were on the job. She didn't have time to be considering such things! What was wrong with her?!

"You used your Cataclysm," she stated, forcing her attention back to the akuma. "And I used my charm, but I haven't restored anything yet, so I'm not on a time limit." She had to make up for her own screw-ups. "I'll keep trying to-"

"I didn't use Cataclysm," Chat interjected, the akuma hunched and growling in irritation ahead of them. "It's something else."

"Something else?"

"What did I tell you about the chit-chat?!" the White Rabbit interjected, his blade having disappeared as he raised his hand again. It glowed, both Chat and Ladybug readying themselves for the onslaught. "Dagger head!"

Above their heads, beneath the gathering clouds, dozens of silver sparks drew their attention, Ladybug able to quickly deduce what was headed their way even as the tiny blades surged down toward them.

Raising her staff, she spun in quickly, dispersing the blades even as they bombarded her from above. Chat did much the same nearby, the little daggers sent spinning around them—like tiny pieces of shattered metal bounding around the roof.

The White Rabbit raised his other hand, eyes once again glowing red. "Burning Man!"

Slicing across the roof, flames burst up toward them, both Ladybug and Chat bolting to either side so as to avoid the attack.

"Chinese Linking Rings!" he shouted a second later, Chat having rebounded off his heel and was headed forward despite how flames exploded between them. Claws raised, he barreled forward, but was tripped up a second later. Metal rings—two pairs linked together—snapped his heels and wrists together, sending him tripping flat upon the rooftop.

"Bird Cage!" the White Rabbit commanded a second later, Ladybug barely dodging around the flames before a giant, golden cage slammed down around her. She nearly ran into the metal bars, skidding to a halt just before she knocked into them.

On the other side of the fire, which was burning down through the roof, Chat had curled up on his back, his claws ripping through the rings wrapping his ankles before he threw his legs out and—core muscles straining—thrust himself back into standing. In the same moment, he'd managed to claw against the rings around his wrists as well, tossing the constraints aside even as they disintegrated into blackened ash.

Wielding her staff, Ladybug rammed it into the golden rungs, but it did little good. She was trapped.

The flames were spreading rapidly.

"Free yourself as many times as you please," the White Rabbit taunted, his focus on Chat as he floated up above the damage. "But you won't weasel your way out of this one!" Reaching down, he grabbed both sides of his cloak before doing a single spin. The fabric flowed almost violently around him, fanning out as he called up another assault. "Bullet Catch!"

Forming from the folds of his cloak, a scattering of tiny, pointed pellets came surging at them too quickly to even see. It was only Chat's timely back-flip, and the fact that the bullets weren't aimed Ladybug's way, that saved them. The tiny bits impaled the rooftop, shooting through and leaving dozens of smoking holes in their wake.

Cringing, Ladybug watched as Chat spun out of his back-flip and surged toward her. Vaulting through the flames between them, he covered his face with his hands as he braved the licking heat. She gaped as she watched, still hardly breathing as he pounced out and landed at the base of her cage.

"Again!" the White Rabbit called, cackling. At the same time, Chat heaved up, swiped out, and scraped his claws against the golden bars holding Ladybug in.

"Bullet Catch!"

Another twirl of that cloak; another wave.

The bars crumbled around her, Ladybug bursting through them as the pellets came raining down. Grabbing Chat by the arm, she yanked him forward with her as she hurdled over the edge of the building. Collapsing her staff in the same moment, she tossed her yoyo out, Chat held firmly in her grasp as they abandoned the building just as the bullets punctured the rooftop behind them.

Yoyo wrapping around a balcony banister across the street, the two swung down into the bricks, banging harshly against the wall. Which caused Chat to slip from Ladybug's grasp.

They weren't that high up off the ground, however, and so he was able to land skillfully into the street below even as Ladybug hung. Flicking her attention back up to the akuma, she was just in time to watch as he hovered closer, yet still high above.

In one swift motion, he spread his arms, a manic grin creasing his lips beneath his red eyes.

"Impalement!" he shouted, six long, thick blades slithering out around his head, circling for only a moment before they were surging forth.

At the same time, Chat vaulted up from the ground, claws slashing as he pushed himself up between the blades and their target. Ladybug's had been in the midst of pulling up her extra yoyo in attempted defense, and watched in chilled shock as the six blades—which had been pointed right at her—instead made a target of Chat.

Reaching out just in time, her partner opened his palms, holding them up before his chest defensively. The blades hit true, Ladybug's breath catching in shock—despite having seen it all coming.

Yet they didn't cut through, or even scatter. As though they'd hit a destructive barrier, the weapons crumbled upon coming in contact with Chat's claws, which had gripped down upon them just as they'd touched him.

Nothing but black ash flitted out into the air, before Chat's jump caught up with him and he began to fall.

But Ladybug was done. She'd had _enough_.

Casting out the yoyo that wasn't holding her to the balcony, she caught Chat around the waist before gripping the string, pulling it tight, and hefting upward. Muscles straining, she tossed him into the air, using the momentum from his own pulling weight to flip herself up onto the same banister that had caught her previously.

Surging through the air, Chat dove right for the akuma. Their abrupt attack finally managed to take the White Rabbit by surprise, his attempts to dodge out of the way failing as Chat reached out and grasped the edge of his top hat.

Swiping it off the akuma's head, he landed deftly on the edge of the burning building before jumping around and spinning it back in Ladybug's direction like a frisbee.

His aim was true, Ladybug catching it with no problem from her position perched on the balcony. Gripping the rim, she easily ripped the hat apart, more than a little relieved when the telltale black butterfly came fluttering out.

Purifying the bug without hesitation, she set it free before turning her attention to the akuma. He was still in the air, and so was left freefalling as his costume bubbled away. Jumping, Ladybug latched both her yoyos to her hips before reaching out and easily catching him.

They landed on the ground a second later, where she placed the shocked and confused man in the street before she peered back up at the burning building. And just as she did, Chat came bounding out of the smoke and down in front of her.

In his hands was the spotted pry bar.

He was huffing, his face smeared with soot, and it took Ladybug a moment to realize what he'd done.

"You went back in for this?!" she asked as he held the pry bar out to her.

"Had to," he reasoned. "Gotta set things back to normal, right?" He grinned, but Ladybug could find nothing humorous about the situation. Yet, despite this, she couldn't come up with anything to say in objection either.

Taking the pry bar, she stared silently down at it. In all her time being Ladybug, she'd never called upon a Lucky Charm that had proven to be useless. The charms were conjured up by her intentions, which generally laid in purifying an akuma. Yet, this was different. She knew it was. Like the time her jealousy had allowed her to abuse Lucky Charm so as to keep Chloe from kissing Adrien, this charm had come to fruition out of emotional desperation, not strategic necessity.

Because she'd allowed her emotions to get the better of her.

Yes, this had happened in the past, but she was supposed to getting _better_ about it, not worse. Such reactions shouldn't be spreading further into her responsibilities.

"My Lady?" Chat's questioning voice jarred her from her thoughts.

"Right," she said, forcefully pushing back on her doubts so as to focus on the fact that there was literally a burning building just down the street from them. "Miraculous Ladybug!" she called, throwing the pry bar in the same moment. Yet, even as the sparkling Ladybugs emerged and corrected the damage, there was something hollow in it all. Her charm hadn't been used—she'd abused her power—and the result could have been worse than it was.

She couldn't lose focus—couldn't get distracted with her own concerns over what was more pertinent.

Chat was capable, she knew that. And she should have had faith in his ability to get out of his predicament himself—especially when the akuma had been so intent on doing her damage. It would have been more logical to have focused on purifying the demon, which would have solved everything anyway.

It wasn't that she'd doubted Chat's ability. No, she'd just been so suddenly gripped with fear upon watching him get closed away from her.

Afraid he'd never return.

Where was this fear coming from? Why was she thinking these things _now_?

And how did she get it to stop?

Her mother had said that it wasn't fear itself that was the problem, but allowing the fear to have control. Yet, having power over her fear was easier said than done. Really, she had no idea how to go about it.

Did that make her a coward?

Or perhaps she was thinking too hard again…

"What's wrong, My Lady?" Chat's concern punctured through her doubts, Ladybug almost totally unaware that she'd followed him up from the recovered street and onto the roof of the very building that had been burning only moments before. Below, quite the crowd had gathered, but Ladybug was in no mood for interviews. Hands fiddling together in front of her, she got out of view of those below as she contemplated Chat's question. But, really, there was only one response.

"I messed up," she admitted quietly, feeling only more ashamed as she voiced her mistake. "I let my emotions get in the way. I've never called on a Lucky Charm and then not had to use it before."

"Ladybug…"

"I should have been focused on the akuma, but I was too preoccupied with- with-"

"Mari, stop," Chat said gently, coming around to stand in front of her before he placed his hands on her shoulders. "I don't know what happened while I was trapped in that box, but whatever it was, it doesn't matter. We still got the akuma, even if we didn't need your Lucky Charm to do it."

"But if I'd been focused on what I should have been-"

"Then maybe things would have been different. But we can't go back and change it now, just like I can't go back and… fix my mistakes. We got through it—we're alive. And that's what really matters."

"But what if…"

She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but he gave her no choice as he bent his head down to her level.

"What if I'd been smarter and dealt with Volpina differently? What if we'd picked… Alya to have the turtle miraculous instead of Nino? What if the sky was red and clouds rained elephants? We don't know." He chuckled, his words allowed Ladybug a small smile as she finally found the gumption to return his gaze. "All we can do is live with what we have now, and try and learn from our mistakes."

"Okay…" she agreed quietly, reaching up and laying her hand over his own. "I'm sorry I keep freaking out."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said, the words sounding like some kind of familiar mantra at that point. Which, really, only made her feel guiltier for inspiring them. "We got the akuma, we did it together. You didn't need your Lucky Charm; I didn't need my Cataclysm. Sounds like a job well done to me."

"You didn't use your Cataclysm," Ladybug repeated, more than willing to latch onto the change in subject. "How did you get out of that box? And those rings? And break the bars on the cage?"

"I think it's some kind of new ability," he explained, pulling away from her as he glanced down at his hand. "My claws have always been sharp, but they've never had any kind of destructive power before." Outside Cataclysm, that was.

"So… is it like you have the ability to use Cataclysm all the time?"

"No, it's not that powerful. It's more like I have a fraction of that ability now. For destroying on a smaller scale. I've used Cataclysm for little things, but now I could save it back." Which meant he could use his abilities more freely—that he could cause a lot of the damage he had before without being on a time limit.

As if to accent this point, Ladybug's earrings beeped.

Whether they were both bound by limits on their miraculouses or not, however, the clouds above would have them scurrying for cover either way. What limited sunlight there'd been before the akuma had vanished behind the thick cover of gray and blue rain clouds. Around them, the air was heavy with humidity, the sparking of an impending storm wafting through the breeze and causing shivers up and down Ladybug's skin.

"We should get inside," Chat said, both of them registering the way the wind had abruptly picked up. "I heard that there might even be a chance for a tornado." Which wasn't what the people of Paris had been hoping for. Rain to ease the drought, yes, but rare and hard-to-predict natural disasters? Not so much.

As if the beeping of Ladybug's earrings were hurrying them along, they made their way quickly between rooftops and over streets, thankful they weren't too far from their own neighborhood. Yet, Ladybug's earrings wouldn't last the whole trip, and so they ended up ducking down in an alley to de-transform before hustling out into the street. Despite attempts at haste, however, they didn't beat the rain. The heavy drops came at them with the wind, sheeting down and soaking them despite how they sprinted for cover. They were only minutes from Adrien's house, but it did them little good. By the time they were able to dash up the stairs and duck inside the front doors, their clothes were dripping and their skin was coated in a thick layer of wetness.

"So I guess we shouldn't have rushed," Adrien decided, arms held out from his sides as puddles quickly began to form at their feet.

"Well, it's getting worse out," Marinette mentioned, glancing back out one of the windows as she pushed her hair out of her face. "Probably still better to be inside." Laughing lightly, she turned back to him only to see that he'd apparently given in to the wetness. His posture was sagging, his hair hanging about his face in an unkempt mess.

They hadn't intended to stay at Adrien's house very long—not with Volpina around—but he'd needed more clothes. Still, it could serve as shelter for the time being.

"Your hair is getting so long," Marinette muttered, taking a step closer before she reached out and parted the locks from in front of his face like a curtain. "I never thought you'd let it get so out of control." What with how picky he could be about his appearance. "Or that your father would allow it."

"Eh, I've had a few more important things to worry about lately," he replied, tossing her a crooked grin before he ran his hand through the blonde locks so as to push them back completely. "And my father doesn't care what I look like these days, seeing as I quit modeling for him anyway."

"You quit modeling?" Marinette asked, eyebrows rising a bit in surprise.

"Uh, yeah, a little while ago. Like I said, more important things to worry about."

"Oh…"

He didn't seem all that broken up about it, so Marinette tentatively decided not to pursue the subject. If he was okay with it, then she was. Modeling could only lead back to his father, after all, and she knew that whole situation was more than a little sensitive. Perhaps quitting would be better for him, she didn't know. But if that was what he wanted, she'd support him.

"You're right though, we should probably just stay here a while and hope the storm lets up," he continued, frowning out at the weather. "No one else is home this early in the day anyway." It was only early afternoon.

"We're all wet though," Marinette stated, pouting as she did.

"Yeah, that is too bad for you," Adrien teased. "I don't have any clothes for tiny bugs." He shrugged, before turning on his heel and heading toward the stairs, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

Marinette snorted. "Well, see if I give you any more of those chocolate chip cookies you like so much." She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air. "Cats shouldn't eat chocolate anyway."

"Now, now," he started, turning as he backed up the first step of the staircase. "No need to get drastic. I'm sure I can scrape together _something_ for you to wear. Maybe I've got some stuff stored away from when I was ten or eleven years old—something more your size."

"You know, maybe I'll mention to my parents that, really, we don't need cookies in the bakery at all." Adrien had been backing his way further up the stairs, and so paused dramatically in response to her threat. "Or maybe croissants? Those don't sell well _at all_." She was still standing just in front of the door, eyeing Adrien in a challenging fashion.

"You are a cruel, cold woman," he decided, seeming appropriately forlorn for just a moment, before his whole disposition was altered with an uncaring shrug. "Which I guess is fitting if you're going to stand in the foyer all afternoon, soaking wet. I tried to be nice, but if that's not good enough…" Clicking his tongue, he twirled back around and whistled as he headed up the second level of stairs.

Marinette huffed. "Trying to be nice, my eye," she grumbled, before stomping her way up after him. "Well, I don't need your charity."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Because," she watched him knowingly as he slowed to wait for her, "I can wear _whatever_ I want," they'd reached the top of the stairs, " _if_ I beat you to your room and lock the door!"

Bolting, she dashed to the left, laughing manically as she abandoned him. She didn't have a ton of experience in his house, but she was pretty sure she remembered where his room was, and so grabbed at the first doorknob she came to. Jerking the door open, she slipped inside before closing it behind and flicking the lock. She'd heard him sprinting after her and so waited in bated breath for him to bang or beg to get in.

It was almost entirely too late when she remembered that his bedroom had _two_ doors instead of one.

Who needed _two doors_?!

Turning just in time to see him stalking her from the other side of the room, she squeaked before flicking the lock back and slipping back into the hall. She'd seen him begin to lunge for her and so took great pleasure in slamming the door in his face.

Wasting no time, she skipped back down the hall again and into the foyer once more. She considered going back down the stairs, but his shoes were padding after her and she feared the steps would slow her down. If she gave him enough time to get those long legs moving, he'd overtake her. She needed to keep him guessing—especially since he had home-field advantage.

Running by the stairs, she skidded through an open door on the right, the room beyond dark. Ducking in, she saw what looked like a couch sitting on the left and so quickly dropped down into a crouch behind it.

Hardly winded, she was easily able to silence her breathing as she listened.

"Come out, come out, pretty bug," Adrien called as he shadowed what little light was filtering through the doorway, making the room all the darker. "You do realize you don't stand a chance, right? I've lived here my whole life—I know every place you could be."

Marinette was not fazed. While not always a virtue, she could be quite stubborn at times. Especially when it came to silly cats.

"If you come out now, I promise to at least give you a potato sack to wear. How's that sound?"

Marinette rolled her eyes.

"I actually wouldn't know where to find a potato sack."

He was creeping through the room, Marinette able to estimate how far away he was based on the location of his voice. As it was then, he was somewhere on the other side, deeper into the room than she was.

"Do potatoes even come in sacks anymore?" he asked.

She kept her mouth firmly closed.

Adrien sighed. "I guess I'm not surprised you're hiding. I realize I strike quite the intimidating figure, but there's no reason to be afraid of me."

In her defense, such a claim could _hardly_ go ignored. The disgusted scoff that left her throat was only to be expected. But it also gave away her position.

Springing up, she whipped around to face the darkest parts of the room, her heart surging up into her throat when she came face to face with a pair of narrowed, green eyes.

"Found you."

She wasn't fast enough. Though she tried to flit away, he was already reaching out to her from behind. In one smooth move, he wrapped his arms around her waist, trapping her to him even as she tried to surge forward and away.

Well, she wasn't one to be captured so easily.

Growling and pitching all her weight back, she threw herself off the ground, hands trying to pry his own away as her legs kicked up into the air. Pushed off balance, Adrien laughed as he stumbled back, easily able to pull her along with him—flailing and all.

Until they both jumped, Adrien actually dropping her when the ringing noise of delicate notes—shoved together out of key—echoed harshly around the room.

Catching herself and stumbling, Marinette whipped around in the same moment Adrien did, the both of them glancing quickly down to the grand piano that had suffered the clumsy weight of Adrien's behind upon it's keys. The clamor still echoed some around them, neither Adrien nor Marinette saying anything until the room was once again silent.

Until the booming of thunder shook the whole house a moment later.

"You play, right?" Marinette asked, the interruption having jarred their previously playful attitude. Stepping forward, she pressed down on a single key, the note dinging around them as she finally took the time to survey the room.

It appeared to be some sort of parlor. Though the chandelier above their heads remained off, and so the room was shadowed and dark, she could still make out the shape of a few tables and couches—one of which she'd been hiding behind—as well as a large fireplace and, of course, the grand piano. Behind the instrument—transparent curtains wavering in the breeze from the air conditioning vents—were grand, floor to ceiling windows. As the drapes lifted away, they revealed the darkened sky beyond, as well as the lightning that went streaking by above.

"I know how, sure," Adrien verified, Marinette dinging another note as he shifted behind her.

"Are you any good?" she asked slyly, casting him a mischievous look as she did.

"Ah…" Adrien shifted his weight thoughtfully. "I'm as good as years of practice will get you. I don't have any natural talent for it."

It was a statement that caused a silent pause between them, the notes of the piano echoing outside their bubble as Marinette continue to tap keys, each one at a time.

"My father didn't always want to be a baker, you know," she started after a few seconds, daring to press two keys together only to realize the unfortunate reality of their out of key harmony. "He went to school for business as well as some sort of administrative relations… thing." No, Adrien couldn't possibly know where she was going with this, but he remained quietly listening nonetheless. "He didn't even grow up baking bread. The first loaf he tried to make was a disaster in his college dorm microwave."

She laughed, glancing back at Adrien to see that he was smiling as well.

"He tells the story much better than I do," she confirmed. "The point, though, is that he had no apparent talent for it. But he was disgusted with his failure with the microwave, and so kept trying until he got it right. And all that 'practice' gave him reason to keep trying. After all, he'd gotten that far, right?"

"I'm glad he did," Adrien said.

"He says that talent isn't something we're born with," she went on. "It's something we develop—something we learn if we're willing to work at it hard enough. Work is passion, he says. Maybe we do things and we think we'd rather be doing something else, but we keep doing them. It's easy to quit. Even with pressure, it's easy to make no progress if we really lack initiative. It's much harder to keep going, but that work always pays off. Even if some of us have different ways in which we go about the same things."

"You're being awfully cryptic, My Lady," he said, though there was a knowing glint to his gaze. "But I get the feeling you're trying to give me some sort of elaborate compliment."

"You should give yourself more credit," she said, turning away from the piano as she managed a bright smile. "You're better than you realize."

"You've never even heard me play."

"I'm not talking about your piano skills."

For a moment, they simply stood, staring at one another. Until, ultimately, Adrien gave in. Sighing, he bowed his head before shuffling a bit closer to her.

"Do you want me to play you something?" he asked, gesturing down at the keyboard.

"I would love that."

Pulling out the black bench, he seated himself, Marinette slipping down beside him a second later. Though they had only the lightning to see by, Adrien had no issue placing his fingers on the keys and beginning to play.

The melody started out easy, light, and almost tentative. But the longer he played, the more complex the composition grew. Until he was using highs and lows and chords too complex for Marinette to keep track of. Yet, that didn't deter her pleasure. She enjoyed the habitual way he took to the instrument, and the look of pure, yet calm concentration that overtook his expression.

Until, with the same lightness it had started with, the piece came to a close.

"Alright," Marinette said a second later. "Now teach me."

"Teach you?" he asked. "Well, I can't teach you _that_."

"Sure you can," she replied. "I don't want to know how to play it, but you can play it for me."

He chuckled. "I thought that was what I just did."

"Put your hands on the keys," she said simply. He huffed a bit, but did as she said. And once his fingers were in place, Marinette reached out and laid her hands atop his, lining them up as she leaned flush against him.

"Now teach me."

He laughed again, but didn't object. Once again, he started the melody, the simplicity making it easy for Marinette to stay tied to him. But as he stretched further down the keys, she lost touch simply due to the length of her arms—or lack of length, rather.

"This isn't working," he said, though he was clearly amused despite how her reaching attempts to keep up resulted in wrong notes on his part. "Here, let's do this." Slipping his hands from beneath hers, he scooted back some on the bench. His implication was obvious, especially when he slipped his arm encouragingly around her shoulders.

And so, lifting off the bench enough to slide over his thigh, Marinette settled herself between his legs as he reached around her to find the keys. Aligning her arms with his, she once more traced his fingers with her own.

"My mother and I used to do this," he said quietly, his voice wisping against her ear as he leaned his chin over her shoulder. "I was a lot smaller, obviously, but…"

"Did your mother play as well as you?" she asked, watching as their hands ghosted over the keys together.

"She was much better than I am," he replied. "Or, I guess… Maybe I just like to remember it that way…"

"I'm sure she was very talented. Just like you."

It was nice, the way she could feel his whole body chuckling against her. And so she leaned further back into him.

Shortly following, his song came once again to an end. Yet, despite this, Marinette continued to rest her fingers with his. Until he twined them up together, before gently folding their arms inward. He was, once more, wrapped up around her waist, her own arms lined atop his own.

He'd bent his head down toward her shoulder, taking a deep breath before he nuzzled his nose into her hair.

"You know," he murmured, "if practice is passion, and passion is talent, then you should take some of your own advice."

Turning her head slightly, Marinette allowed her nose to brush his hair.

"Give yourself a little more credit, My Lady. Everyone makes mistakes. But your friends, and all of Paris, wouldn't have such faith in you were it not justified."

She wanted to believe him. Some part of her knew that she should. But it was easier to focus on other things than try and deal with insecurities she didn't understand. Her mother's words, his words, they made sense. But the stones gathering in her stomach told a continually different story.

It was stupid and she hated it, but she also didn't know what to do about it.

"My clothes are getting stiff," she whispered, finding it easier to smile so long as she focused on him. "Do you think we could go find that potato sack?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Should we start in the kitchen or the trash?"

"It's your house," she said skeptically, taking that as reason to begin pulling away. "As a guest, I'll graciously allow you to do the dirty work." She could feel the way his hold tightened around her—as though to keep her in place—but it was a sensation that lasted only a second before she was set free. He opened his arms and she climbed back over his leg before hopping to her feet beside the piano bench.

"So high maintenance," he complained as he also got to his feet. "Fine. We'll skip the potato sack. Although," he looked her up and down, "one of my shirts might look a bit like a sack on you."

"Haha, very funny," she rebuked, making sure to roll her eyes dramatically. "Let's just go before these clothes get even more uncomfortable."

And so—with far less theatrics than when they'd first burst into the parlor—they made their way back out into the hall and to Adrien's room. The storm was still raging outside, throwing sheeting rain against the windows, which didn't bode well for them being able to leave any time soon. Sure, Marinette didn't live too far, but if the weather could really get as bad as the forecasts were saying, the last thing they wanted was to be caught outside in it.

"We might as well just wait it out," Adrien said, heading into the bathroom. "Not like Volpina's gonna be out in this anyway. I don't think even she's _that_ crazy."

Marinette offered only a hum of agreement, supposing he was right. He'd flicked on the light before going to the cabinets stacked against the right wall, pulling open doors and drawers as Marinette loitered over by the sink. Which cast her reflection across the mirror.

Frowning, she began pulling at her pigtails, trying to fix what the water had mussed. But the locks were frizzy and unreasonable, and so she didn't get very far before Adrien was coming up beside her with an armful of clothes.

"Here, it's just a t-shirt and pajama pants, but I tried to find the smallest ones that I could." He shrugged, Marinette taking the offered articles.

"It's fine," she assured, smiling easily up at him. "Better than a potato sack."

"I dunno…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Something tells me you could really pull off a potato sack."

"Yeah, I bet," she said, before beginning to push him toward the door. "Get out, Kitty. A Lady needs her privacy."

He chuckled and allowed himself to be shoved out the door before Marinette slid it closed. She considered locking it, but ultimately decided it wasn't necessary. Setting the clothes she'd been given aside, she quickly stripped down to nothing. Her underwear was just as soaked through as the rest of her clothes, so keeping it on would only dampen the dry clothes she was supposed to be putting on.

She didn't exactly want to go without underwear, however.

Rolling her clothes into a neat pile and setting them on the counter, she crept toward the cabinets under the windows before pulling open one of the far doors, which revealed a series of drawers from top to bottom. Pulling out the first one, she saw that it contained only socks. Closing it, she then pulled open the next one. Which revealed what she was looking for.

Coming in a variety of muted colors were neatly folded stacks of Adrien's boxer-briefs.

She hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of the drawer as her cheeks flushed with red. She didn't think he'd mind, but that didn't change the fact that she was basically going through his underwear. Well, "going through" was a bit of an exaggeration, but the sentiment still stood. She could just go without, but she'd already be bra-less. She'd only be self-consciously paranoid about the lack of layering, especially if the pants he'd given her were too big.

Nose curling in discomfort, she reached into the drawer and pulled out a single pair of dark, maroon colored boxer-briefs, only blushing all the harder as she unfolded them and held them up.

This was Adrien's underwear—it covered… places— _things_ —she didn't want to think about. Okay, well, that wasn't completely true, but that was quite beside the point.

Shaking her head of such thoughts, she simply focused on pushing through and getting dressed. Slipping the boxer-briefs on, she was thankful when they fit rather snuggly around her hips. A little baggy in the front, but manageable.

Skipping back over to the counter, she then hastily pulled on the black t-shirt he'd given her before reaching for the pajama pants. But before she grabbed them, a loud, banging noise, and Adrien's surprised shout, caught her attention.

Going to the door, she was just about to slide it open—if only to make sure he was alright—when a familiar voice froze her cold in her tracks.

A voice that wasn't Adrien's and that the two had assumed they'd be safe from while the storm raged.

"Have you been _avoiding_ me?"

Volpina.

"Gah!" Adrien yelped. Volpina's question had been accusing—volatile almost. Swept with concern, Marinette dared slide the door open just a crack, before peering out into the bedroom.

Volpina had come in through the window, water dripping from her soaked hair and sliding down the smooth sleekness of her suit. She had her flute pulled and was pointing it at Adrien, a scowl pulling at her lips.

Adrien, on the other hand, was standing at the foot of his bed in only a pair of pajama pants. What looked like a shirt was sitting on his comforter, but he clearly hadn't had the time to put it on.

"Answer me!" Volpina demanded, close enough then to point her flute right at Adrien's throat.

"Ah, n-no, of course not," he replied, blinking as he obviously tried to process the abrupt situation. In the same moment, his attention darted quickly to the bathroom, before he raised his hands. It was a defensive gesture, meant to calm Volpina's aggressions, but he'd discreetly motioned one of his hands in Marinette's direction. As if telling her to stay where she was.

Because, of course, Marinette had been running through all the possible actions she could take, the obvious being that she'd turn into Ladybug, escape through the bathroom window, and head around into his bedroom. But his gesture stopped her dead in her ministrations, plans grinding to a halt as she stared—wide-eyed—through the crack in the door.

"Where have you been?" Volpina asked, taking another step forward as she did. Until the butt of her flute was pushed right up against Adrien's jugular. He cringed, backing up into the bed before falling to the mattress. Which dislodged the flute, thankfully, but only left him all the more vulnerable sitting atop the comforter.

"I, uh, I-I've been abroad," he lied quickly, shying back some as the flute was once more thrust his way. "My father sent me to A-America for a little while."

"Why?" Volpina asked, a slight growl permeating her tone.

"B-business. I don't, uh, model anymore, but I'm still a Gabriel Agreste representative. I would have told you, but, ah, it was sudden and y-you don't come around much."

Yet, despite the viability of his story, Volpina didn't look convinced. She continued to push her flute his way, eyes narrowing suspiciously. And through it all, Marinette only grew more tense, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Everything inside her was telling her to act, to do something, but Adrien had silently asked her not to.

They were partners. Though he'd made some mistakes as of late, she felt that she had too. Trusting him was, therefore, the right thing to do. That was how they'd always worked—if she asked him to run, he did; if he asked her to jump, she did. They'd had their ups and downs, but it'd never given her reason not to trust his judgement in the spur of the moment.

Besides, they couldn't afford to unintentionally reveal their identities. They were already at a disadvantage with whatever power it was that Hawkmoth was able to grant both Volpina and Queen Bee. If their identities were discovered, they'd be as good as finished. Their families, friends—anyone and everyone they knew would be in danger. The miraculouses were what Hawkmoth wanted and Marinette had long since come to terms with the fact that she'd rather face death than give him what he wanted. If combining the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses really could grant as much supreme power as Master Fu had once explained it could, then their jewelry could never fall into the wrong hands. Even if that meant the miraculouses were eventually removed from their dead bodies and lost.

Volpina hadn't brought it up, so Marinette assumed she didn't know there was another girl in Adrien's bedroom, but Ladybug dropping in out of nowhere—with no provocation in the middle of a horrific storm—would cast suspicion on Adrien. Whether it was suspicion that he knew Ladybug or simply that he'd been relaying information to her. Either way, it was dangerous.

Besides, Marinette wasn't sure if taking on Volpina was a good idea. They'd been training, yes, but she had no way of knowing where Queen Bee was, or if Hawkmoth was present within the mind of his lackey. Both Nino and Master Fu were out of town and the storm was raging at perilous levels.

Adrien was right—if he could take care of this without getting Ladybug involved, that would be better.

"Should we do something?" Tikki asked, buzzing up around Marinette's ear.

"Adrien doesn't want us to," she replied quietly, still tense and barely breathing as she peered out into the room beyond. Though her thoughts had been racing, only seconds had passed, hardly any relief given when Volpina finally retracted her flute and rescinded her aggressive posture. Little red kwami settling onto her shoulder, Marinette could hear the way Tikki vibrated with nerves as well, which did little good in offering any comfort.

"Fine," Volpina finally said, flute sheathed behind her back before her arms crossed over her chest. She still dripped with water, but didn't seem the least bit perturbed by it. "I've been watching your house and now that you're back, I'll just have to drop in more often."

"W-watching my _house_?" Adrien asked. Marinette supposed they'd been right in being wary of letting Adrien be there alone. Of course, the one time they even slightly let their guard down, Volpina shows up.

"Yes. When I have the time. I was waiting for you to be home." She glared at him again. "I'm glad I caught you. With this ridiculous storm, I only realized you were here when you turned on the light." Which he must have done after Marinette had gone to the bathroom to change. They were lucky.

Too lucky.

"I don't like this," Tikki whispered. Marinette pursed her lips. She didn't like it any better, but she knew she could trust Adrien.

Yet… the doubt in her stomach kept digging deeper and deeper. But it wasn't because she thought Adrien was wrong in what he was doing. It wasn't him she was doubting.

Even though he'd asked her to take a step back, would she have normally done so? Or would Ladybug have swept in by then, trust or not? She wanted to, but was that the right thing to do? Or was waiting to see what happened better? Was Adrien right? Was there a right?

What if she was wrong? What if interfering only made it worse? Then again, what if lack of action did the same thing?

What if she put Adrien in more danger?

Breath becoming somewhat quick, Marinette reached up and gripped the fabric of Adrien's t-shirt, stomach coiling with nerves.

"Even- Even out in this storm?" Adrien had recovered quickly enough from the news of Volpina's stalker-like behavior. Leaning forward a bit, he feigned concern as Volpina tapped her foot. "You could have just waited 'til after."

"The storm doesn't matter—I'm always out."

"Always?"

"Yes." Huffing, Volpina walked first one way, then another, beginning to pace. "Volpina is preferable to Lila. Lila was nothing." A scowl had etched itself across her lips. "No one needed her—she was a helpless nobody. But Volpina has a purpose." Turning on Adrien suddenly, she fisted her hand in front of her as she leaned toward him. "Hawkmoth _needs_ me. I have a mission now."

"You mean, stopping Ladybug and Chat Noir?" Adrien asked tentatively.

"Yes, that, of course," she snapped, beginning to pace again. "But Hawkmoth has given me other assignments—he's let me in on his plan."

"Oh yeah?" Adrien grinned nervously. "What's that?"

Volpina turned on him swiftly, glaring again. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just- I'm your… your boyfriend, right?" he asked. "I'm just interested in your… job."

This seemed to pacify her for the moment, if all too quickly.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir's powers are growing stronger," she explained, going to the window before coming back again. "Hawkmoth was afraid this would happen with me and… that _bee_ now working with him. He believes the guardian of the miraculouses is training them. That and that turtle boy. My mission is to find him." She sat down beside Adrien on the bed.

"Find… the guardian?"

"Yes." She nodded vigorously. "Hawkmoth said he failed to kill him and that he needed me—because he knows he can depend on me—to finish the job. I must find him. I can't let Hawkmoth down." Standing swiftly, she began pacing again.

"Do you know how to find him?" Adrien dared to ask, Marinette ringing the t-shirt between her hands.

"If I did, do you think I'd still be looking?!" she barked, causing Adrien to jump. But she didn't seem to care that she'd startled him. "He's elusive, but I'll find him eventually. Ladybug and Chat Noir are distracted with the akumas. I'll get to him. And get to them _all_."

"She's unstable," Tikki murmured. "We should do something."

"Adrien hasn't given any signal," Marinette defended, yet she didn't entirely trust her own reasoning. What would she normally do in this situation? Why was making a decision so difficult?

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she trust herself?

What should she do?

"Then I'll be the hero Paris wants," Volpina continued, turning once more to Adrien. "The hero Paris deserves." Stepping toward him, she laid a hand on his bare shoulder, pulling one of her knees up onto the mattress beside him at the same time.

Adrien was clearly surprised, the forwardness of her actions making Marinette take in a quick breath as she leaned closer to the door.

Was this too much? Should she intervene? Or was she letting her emotions get the better of her again?

"And with you by my side, everything will be _perfect_ ," Volpina purred, smiling as she pushed further into Adrien's personal space. He was actively leaning away, but she only followed him. Until he was laid back on the bed, Volpina crouched over him.

"Marinette!" Tikki hissed.

"I should do something," she whispered to herself. "Right? But Adrien told me not to." She was talking to herself. "He'd give a signal, wouldn't he? Or- Or should I-"

Why didn't she know what to _do_?

"Look, Volpina," Adrien tried to reason, turning his head somewhat to the side to avoid how she lowered herself over him. "I think that's a- a great plan!" He chuckled nervously. "And I'm all for it, but, uh, I'd still like to take things slow, okay?"

"We'll go slow," Volpina assured. "As slow as I want to go."

Marinette pursed her lips, able to easily make out the fear that flashed through Adrien despite her limited view.

But was it jealousy that made her lips purse? Was that something she could trust?

Did Adrien have everything under control?

"I can sense your fear," Volpina said, sounding all too pleased as she reached out with one finger and turned Adrien's head. Despite how he tried to then turn in the other direction, she harshly grabbed his chin so as to keep him facing her. "You _should_ be afraid of me," she continued, leaning closer until only a few centimeters remained between her smiling lips and Adrien's.

"Marinette!" Tikki issued, buzzing fiercely around her had. " _Do_ something!"

Because she should have acted long before.

Despite Adrien's attempts at avoidance, he couldn't get away. And so was defenseless when Volpina smashed her lips to his. He flailed beneath her, eyes wide as he reached up and tried to grapple against her shoulders. But she was too strong, his attempts failing to so much as budge her. She had his chin held tightly between her fingers, her assault only growing more severe as she pressed him into the mattress.

And Marinette…

She'd never been so overcome with rage in her entire life.

There was no masked jealousy here, no uncertainty. It hit her like a freight train, her teeth grinding as she watched the scene unfold.

It didn't matter if this was her fault or his, or what any reasoning for it was. Adrien was her friend—her dearest friend. No, he was more than that. And she was failing to protect him. She'd, once again, let her own personal feelings—her own insecurities—get in the way.

She had to stop this.

Ladybug had to stop this.

"Tikki," she said darkly, every nerve in her body sparking with fury.

"I'm ready," her kwami assured, sounding just a grave.

"Transform m-"

Just as she was about to burst in, Volpina abruptly broke the contact. Pushing off of Adrien, she smiled down at him. He was breathing hard, remaining vulnerable atop the bed as blood trickled from a small cut in the center of his swollen, bottom lip.

"Remember this," Volpina threated, reaching out and grabbing him by the ankles before pulling him harshly across the sheets toward her. He yelped, his thighs parted around her own as she leaned into him once again, "the next time you decide to be unavailable."

Hair whipping out behind her, she turned and darted to the windows before throwing one pane open and jumping out.

Just as swiftly as she'd come, she was gone.

Teeth still gritted, Marinette remained rooted where she was, watching Adrien through the crack in the door as her own sensibilities continued to seethe with rage.

Yet, coming up quickly was heavy guilt as well.

Adrien had just been… He'd just been sexually assaulted. And she'd just watched it happen.

How could she have done that to him? This was exactly what she and Nino had wanted to avoid. Yet her own ridiculous uncertainties had clouded her judgement. It wasn't the decisions that were suddenly hard to make—the answers were right in front of her. It was her own doubt that was the problem.

She should have acted. And now it was too late.

If there'd ever been a time she'd failed, it was then.

She loved him, yet she'd done _nothing_. There was no forgiveness for that. She'd failed him beyond what she'd ever thought possible.

Hand shaking—both with guilt and rage—she reached out and slid the door open. As she did, Adrien whipped around to look at her, his fingers stained with blood from where he'd been touching his lip. And as their gazes met—Marinette's hard and his still uncertain with terror—redness flushed from his shoulders upward.

He looked away.

"No," she said firmly, marching swiftly toward him before leaning a knee up onto the bed and wrapping him in her arms. "I don't care what happened before or what you agreed to, this isn't your fault," she said firmly, leaning her cheek on the top of his head as she pulled him close.

He was trembling.

"She had no right to do that and I won't let her touch you ever again," she swore, completely certain of her promise. "I'm sorry I didn't step in earlier. I should have. And I was just about to transform when she left. That doesn't excuse my lack of action, but it won't happen again. Ever." She held him tighter. "I'm sorry, Adrien."

He didn't say anything, but she heard him gulp before her reached up and weakly pulled his own arms around her waist. Before he turned his head into her chest and nuzzled against her—almost as though he were trying to hide.

She couldn't imagine the terror that was flowing through him, the idea that he felt such things at all nearly bringing tears of pure rage to her eyes. But she forcefully swallowed them back, instead putting her anger into holding him even tighter.

"I wouldn't have let her do anything else," she continued. "I shouldn't have let what she did do happen and I can never make up for that. But she'll never lay a single hand on you again."

Marinette would kill her if she had to—if that was what it came to. She had no doubts about that.

"I told you to stay back," Adrien finally managed to choke out, but Marinette wasn't about to let him continue with such notions.

"It doesn't matter," she said swiftly. "This isn't your fault, Adrien."

He didn't say anything else.

But Plagg had plenty to say.

"What is wrong with you?!" the kwami shouted, flitting down in front of them. At first, Marinette thought he was talking to her, and so was prepared to take his scolding. But as both she and Adrien turned their attention to him, they could see quite plainly that his attention was focused on his own human. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"Plagg, do-"

Tikki's words were interrupted when Plagg continued angrily on. "I saw you wave Marinette off!" he said, Marinette wanting to stop his accusing tone, but unable to get a word in. "What is wrong with you?! What if Volpina had been more intent on hurting you?! How dare you try and deal with her on your own! Especially when Ladybug is right there!

"Stupid child!" he spat, zooming up until her was right in front of Adrien's nose. "Stupid, idiotic, _foolish_ child!"

"Plagg…" Tikki said his name quietly, coming up and laying her little paw on Plagg's tiny shoulder. Which spurred him to turn swiftly on her instead.

"Why are they always so senseless?!" he yelled, Tikki not seeming the last bit bothered by his attitude, though the two teenagers were more than a little shocked. "Reckless, unthinking imbeciles! All of them! I loathe them all! Every single one!"

Fuming, his green eyes wide with wrath, he turned one last scowl on Adrien before releasing a howl of frustration.

Without another word, he became a rushing black smudge that darted up above their heads and into the bookshelves on the second level. Which left both Adrien and Marinette gaping, Tikki releasing a soft sigh in front of them.

"Plagg's just upset," she said a moment later, looking directly at Adrien. "He doesn't like seeing you in danger. Don't worry," she smiled softly, "I'll talk to him."

With that assurance, she whizzed off into the bookshelves herself, leaving Adrien and Marinette with nothing else to go on.

After a few moments of silence, Adrien put his attention back on Marinette. "I've never seen Plagg that angry before," he admitted, having calmed some himself. "He usually just makes fun of me for… stupid things."

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. "I guess he was just worried…" After all, what other conclusion could they come to? "I'm sure Tikki will calm him down."

Shoulders slumping, Adrien huffed before leaning his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands.

"Hey," Marinette said softly, reaching out and laying a hand on his back. "Don't. Plagg was just worried."

"This is only happening because I was such an idiot."

"It doesn't matter how much of an idiot you were," she said simply, totally certain of her words. "That doesn't give Volpina any right. Ever."

Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat back up, gaze on the sheets as he reached up and tentatively touched the bite mark on his lip. It still bled a little, but he seemed to have wiped most of the mess on the back of his hand and over his fingertips previously.

Marinette asked him if he wanted her to get some tissues, but he shook his head.

"This is gonna sound really stupid," he started a second later, glancing up at her again. "And I guess I'm only thinking about it now that it's over, but…" he licked his injured lip, "that's really not how I wanted my first kiss to go down."

"Adrien…" Marinette still had her hand resting comfortingly on his back.

"I wanted it to be you. Obviously." He laughed bitterly. "Funny, when I first agreed to be Volpina's 'boyfriend,' I didn't even think about stuff like that." He shook his head. "I'm _such_ an idiot."

"You're not," Marinette said, shifting closer to him. "Maybe I didn't agree with your reasons, but I understood them. You're not an idiot." She smiled. "I could never have an idiot for a partner."

He laughed again, some of the bitterness having faded.

"And, um…" A slight blush of her own marring her cheeks, Marinette pulled her hand back so she could fiddle her fingers together in her lap. "That wasn't your first kiss anyway."

His eyebrows furrowed together curiously.

"On Valentine's Day, when Kim was turned into an akuma and put that spell on you, I, um…" She huffed, forcing herself to find the words. "The only way to break the spell was to kiss you. So…"

He blinked in surprise, lips parting just a bit.

"So I did," she admitted. "Kissed you, I mean. But you didn't remember and I felt bad about it. Because I had to do it without your permission. And I'm sorry for that. But, um, if you'd never been kissed before that, then I guess that was your first one. Not this. Sorry. Again." He blinked, as if digesting the words, which only made Marinette's cheeks flush deeper.

"Well…" He managed a small smile. "I guess I'm glad then." An admission that gave Marinette the courage to look up at him. "I guess I don't have a very good track record as far as kissing so far, but… it's nice to know my first one was you. Even if I don't remember it."

"I should have told you a long time ago," she replied. "I'm sorry I didn't."

"It's okay." He managed a wink. "If you'd asked to kiss any time before, I would have said yes anyway."

And so Marinette came up with a small smile of her own.

It was short lived, however.

Wind and rain whipping into the room, they both looked up in shock as the window was tossed open once again.

Coming through, Volpina landed in a graceful crouch, before unfolding stiffly. Standing tall, she stared coldly at them both, her flute propped on her shoulder.

Neither Adrien nor Marinette could think of anything to say, their hearts skipping before beginning to beat swiftly in alarm.

"I thought maybe I'd left too early," she said darkly. "It was muted, but once I sensed your true fear," she looked to Adrien before flicking her attention to Marinette, "I considered that perhaps the muted feeling I'd registered prior hadn't been your own." She snarled, Marinette pursing her lips as she straightened.

"V-Volpina," Adrien started hastily, "This is, uh, Marinette. She's just a friend."

"I know who she is," Volpina growled, before leveling her flute in Marinette's direction. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Your photo was on the class list I received before I started at Dupont." Her glare was met equally by Marinette's.

"Right," Adrien agreed uneasily. "She's in the same class as you were. Like I said, we're just friends."

"Don't _lie_ to me!" Volpina yelled, keeping her flute pointed at Marinette as she turned her snarl on Adrien. Not that either of them were surprised at Volpina's lack of belief. Adrien had been shirtless when he'd originally been burst in upon and Marinette was wearing only _his_ t-shirt and _his_ boxer-briefs. Even if they explained the true reason for such attire, she wouldn't buy it.

It was clear she'd already made up her mind.

"Look, Volpina, let's just talk about this rationally," Adrien said calmly.

"You're cheating on me," Volpina decided. "I should have known. I never did trust you."

Marinette was betting she never trusted anyone.

"You visited him three times," Marinette dared to say. "That's hardly a relationship, let alone something that can justify 'cheating.' Especially when you were practically forcing him into it."

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut," Volpina hissed, jutting her flute closer to Marinette. And the lack of reaction only seemed to infuriate her more.

"Volpina, let's just-" Adrien tried again to pacify her, but he was ignored.

"Where is your fear?" Volpina hissed, pushing her flute forward until it pressed into Marinette's cheek. It was only the difference in strength that moved Marinette's head to the side.

"I never feared you," she replied steadily, Adrien giving her a warning look that went unheeded. But it was too late—no amount of reasoning would make a difference. Marinette could see that in the glazed, unfeeling aggression in Volpina's eyes. "I fear many things, but _you_ were never one of them."

"You _will_ fear me!" she hissed. "I have the ability to sense what your fears are," she continued. "I'll make them a reality."

Marinette didn't believe her. "If that's true, then it'd be easy for you to do so. Why haven't you?"

"Mari…" Adrien whispered.

Volpina's teeth ground together, her frustration only continuing to increase.

Whether what she claimed was true or not, she couldn't access such sensitive abilities on her own. She didn't have the training. Only Hawkmoth could give her that power and he didn't appear to be offering any sort of aid.

For only a split second, Marinette wondered if this was the chance that they should take. Together, without Hawkmoth, she and Adrien could overpower her. But that would mean revealing their identities.

No, even if there was a small chance Volpina would get away, they couldn't risk it.

She needed a plan.

Even with her thoughts churning, however, Volpina took action too quickly. Marinette saw it coming in the way that gloved hand tightened around the flute—as did Adrien—and braced herself. But the hit didn't come for her. Rather, in one swift snap, Volpina pulled the flute back before lashing out.

The hit was for Adrien and without their powers, there was no way he could avoid it.

The flute smashed into the side of his head, sending him careening off the bed. Gasping in horror, Marinette's blood ran cold as he smashed into the wall, leaving a body-sized dent before he slumped to the floor.

" _Adrien_!" she shrieked, reaching out across the bed as though to crawl toward him. But that flute cut in front of her like a fence, Marinette whipping up toward Volpina with a murderous glare.

"There it is," Volpina taunted, smirking as she did. "There's your fear."

Marinette turned back to Adrien. He's seemingly been knocked unconscious, or so Marinette hoped. She watched him as closely as she could, looking for signs of breathing. But he was slumped over in a way that didn't allow for such visuals, and so Marinette's panic only skyrocketed further.

A blow like that could have easily broken his neck!

"Losing him. That's what you fear most, isn't it?" Volpina teased. "Such weakness."

Marinette scowled up at her, hands gripping tightly around the comforter. Until her knuckles were pale and the muscles in her arms were straining.

"I'll kill you," she assured darkly.

Volpina scoffed. "Not if I kill you first."

Flute rising, Marinette watched as it came down hard. Too fast to avoid.

No time.

And then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm home from South Korea. I'm tired. Have this chapter. 
> 
> I don't know when the next one will be up. I have exams next week and other things I don't remember. 
> 
> I don't know. I just got off a 14 hours flight. I can't think straight. Ask me tomorrow XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> ALSO! This story is now officially half way over :D


	17. Part Two - Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW AT THE END! It's not that bad imo, BUT YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

Blue.

That was all Marinette could see. It flowed around her like water, but didn't cool the heated pain throbbing inside her skull. Tears spurred by agony blurred her vision—if what she was seeing was even real. She couldn't tell.

She couldn't even feel her own body. Weightless and helpless, and surrounded in blue.

Maybe none of it was real. Maybe it was a dream.

She tried to push back on the fuzziness, but every pulse against her head was painful. Though she tried to focus, none of her commands were obeyed. And so the blue washed all over her, as though she'd drown in the color. In and out, in and out, it faded. Or maybe she was the one that was fading.

Maybe it didn't make a difference.

She was so tired…

" _Wake up!_ " Her eyelids felt heavy, even as that familiar voice jolted through her. " _Please, wake up!_ " She was trying, but doing so was difficult. Was she even asleep? Was that what this was? She wasn't drowning anymore. No, it felt more like falling. There was so much pressure coming in from every direction—she couldn't sit up, couldn't open her eyes. It was easier to just plummet through the darkness. Nauseated and weak, and as though every part of her body was slowly drifting apart.

" _I need you to wake up._ "

No, she couldn't.

" _I know you can do it._ "

It was too difficult.

" _Mari…_ " His voice—it sounded soft, gentle, and she curled up inside its warmth. " _It's time to wake up, love._ "

But it was so much easier to be whisked away—to simply let his words carry her off, safe and sheltered.

Yet, as if to contradict the notion, her stomach fell abruptly out from beneath her. As if the safe netting that had cradled her plummet had been stripped away. Suddenly, there was nothing comforting about her fall. It was cold, the darkness looming, and she couldn't breathe.

"Adrien?" she called, but there was no response.

Finally, frantic and surging with anxiety, she reached out against the shadows. Scraping and clawing, she found her feet—found the rest of her body. Until she had enough control to search. Yet, the abyss was deep and she didn't know how to escape.

"Adrien!" she called again, the chill surging a shiver up through her spine as she pushed onward. Pins and needles pricked through her legs, straining the muscles as she ran. But it was like moving through water, heavy and slow and unforgiving.

" _This way._ "

But it was like his voice came from every direction, yet was muted and removed somehow. She didn't know which way to go—directions didn't exist in this place. She was lost, unsure, and afraid.

"Where are you?"

" _I'm here_."

"Where?"

" _Here. Just as I've always been._ "

"I can't find you." Pause. "Adrien?"

Yet, she was alone, wasn't she? Inevitably, that was how she'd always known things would turn out.

How had she ended up like this?

But she knew the answer—she'd done this to herself. Never before in her life had she been so alone. There'd always been someone—her friends, her family. And she'd never feared being without them until she'd learned that she could, and now she couldn't imagine anything else.

A self-fulfilling prophecy.

She knew it was inspired by fear. That she was afraid of what yet hadn't happened.

Where had that fear gotten her? It'd pushed her back, trapped her, and made every step in any direction she could take impossible. To the point where she wasn't only alienating herself, but putting others in danger.

It was coming back to her, what had happened. Volpina. Their vulnerable position.

Would things have been different if she'd been brave enough to act sooner? If she'd trusted herself to make a decision? Staying put, doing nothing, she hadn't chosen to do that. She'd simply remained passive, inactive, and unsure. She'd made no conscious effort to stay hidden or take the offensive. Her own doubt had chained her down.

And Adrien had suffered as a result.

Maybe turning into Ladybug wouldn't have done anything. Maybe it'd have only made the situation worse. But, at least then, she'd have settled on a decision. Perhaps it would have been the right one, perhaps not, but she'd have committed to it. And so might have had no regrets.

She didn't want to regret. But that was all this fear was offering her. Regret upon regret over things she could have done and hadn't. Her fear wasn't saving her any grief, wasn't protecting her. Adrien had been in danger whether she'd acted or not. That was the reality. It didn't matter how much she feared losing him if nothing she did actively helped to prevent that. Her fears offered her only illusions—reality was much worse.

But it could also be better, if she was just brave enough to embrace it.

Her doubt had put Adrien in worse peril. It'd brought the reality she'd feared upon herself.

She couldn't hesitate anymore.

She couldn't let her fear control her.

Her mother was right—she had to be the one to take control. The world would always be moving on around her, acting in ways she couldn't predict. A life in a closed room with her fears banging on the windows was no way to live. And it was no way for others to live with her. The world was dangerous and terrifying, but it was also beautiful and worth cherishing.

It was worth the risk— _Adrien_ was worth the risk.

He _was_ there, just as he'd claimed. If only she dared to look.

The cloud that had fogged her thoughts—as if the weight had been her own doing—gradually began to clear. Until she could breathe again. The fresh air flooded through her, shattering the darkness all around even as she continued to fall. But as the shadows dissipated, she felt that warm embrace once more, pulling her in.

Reaching out, she grasped back. Until she was touching down on solid ground.

With him.

"You found me," he murmured. Marinette offered up a small smile, their fingers twining together as she stepped closer to him.

"You called me," she replied. "And I won't be scared of such things. I won't hesitate." She squeezed his hands. "Not anymore."

He managed a gentle smile of his own. "I'm glad to hear that, Mari. I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Don't apologize. So long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"I am," she replied, closing her eyes as he leaned down toward her. Until their foreheads were pressed lightly together and his breath danced across her lips. "As long as I'm with you, I am happy."

The world around them was white, muted, and they were the only things that existed there. Yet, somehow, Marinette had never felt more awake—more _alive_. And never more in love with the man holding her so close.

"Mari," he whispered. "Is this real?"

"Of course it's real," she said simply.

He chuckled, both of them opening their eyes. "I kind of thought we were dreaming."

"I think we are," she replied, giggling. "You were asking me to wake up, remember?"

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?"

"Well, I'm ready to wake up now," she decided. "And you'll be there when I do, right?"

"Of course, love. Always."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise," she murmured, nuzzling her nose up into his.

"I'd expect nothing less."

And so, despite how it scared her, she took a deep breath and dared to let go. Like ribbons in the wind, he drifted away, leaving her to fall back on her own. But she held his promise close, put her faith in his words, and so was overtaken by calm acceptance even as she was left isolated and alone.

Maybe, if and when she did finally land, it's be harsh and painful, but at least she was going to make the best of the time she had in flight. When she was already so high, there was no reason to fear the fall. It was going to hurt whether she looked at the ground or not, so she might as well enjoy the horizon. It wasn't a matter of finding a safe place to land—there wasn't one.

But that was okay.

What mattered was that she dared to take it all in, for as long as she was allowed.

And that started with reality.

Gasping, Marinette's eyes flew open, vision bleary despite how she immediately began blinking against the harsh light blasting in. Lungs heaving, she flinched back, head throbbing as she tried vainly to turn away from the pain. Her hands gripped at the soft fabric beneath her, nausea assaulting her a few seconds later—as if she wasn't feeling awful enough.

"Mari?" His voice was soft, careful, and relieving. Despite the stringing light, Marinette turned toward him, forcing her eyes to remain open as he leaned over her. Shaggy blonde hair, pretty green eyes. A concerned cringe. But he was there. He was _okay_.

"Adrien," she murmured.

He smiled, reaching out a laying his cool hand against her cheek. "I knew you could do it."

"What happened?" she asked. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," he explained, the room finally beginning to come into focus as she tried to sit up against the back of her bed—or so she was assuming it was. He reached out to help, before settling on the edge of the mattress beside her.

"Why?"

"You- Because, Mari," he reached out and placed a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "You've been unconscious for two days."

"Two days?!" she squawked, immediately regretting having raised her voice. Unable to duck away from her own volume, she squeezed her eyes shut until the dizzying pain passed. In the same moments—as feeling slowly returned to every part of her body—she registered the stiffness of a needle in her arm, which hooked up to the numerous bags suspended above her head. More uncomfortable yet, what felt like a catheter was hidden beneath the covers, slinking out from between her legs.

Well, she was in a hospital. And she had been unconscious for _two days_.

"Do you remember what happened?" Adrien asked as he reached out and pressed the red button behind her bed, which would likely call a nurse.

"I remember Volpina," she muttered, leaning back against the pillow Adrien had pushed up behind her head. "She hit you first." Eyebrows furrowing, she looked him up and down. "Are you really alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured, chuckling at her question. "Just a nasty bruise," he motioned to the black and blue mark blossoming along his jaw, "and a bump on the back of my head. Nothing too bad."

"It looked bad…"

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine," he guaranteed, before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "You parents went with Alya down to the cafeteria for lunch. I'm going to text them and let them know you're awake, alright?"

She nodded.

"What happened to me?" she asked a second later.

Adrien paused in his texting to look up at her, before glancing quickly to the door—as if making sure no one had walked in when he hadn't been looking. He then quickly finished his text before pocketing his phone and leaning a bit closer to her.

"I don't know what happened, exactly," he murmured. "I was unconscious for a few minutes. And when I came back around, you were already…" He shook his head. "She'd left you on the bed, and maybe would have done worse, but…"

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows.

"We were saved, Mari," he whispered. "By that- that cloaked figure. From before."

This caused her to gape. It'd been some time since they'd run into the mysterious person in blue. They'd been saved by them once before, and seemingly stalked previously.

"They were already in my bedroom when I woke up, standing between us and Volpina. And when Volpina ran off, they went after her. I don't know what happened then. Except that, whoever they are, they must have been the ones who called an ambulance to the house. I don't know who else would have."

Marinette wasn't quite sure what to think of such news. On one hand, she was thankful. If left to Volpina, she may not have made it out at all. But, on the other side of things, this figure in blue showing up seemed almost too coincidental. It'd have been different if it'd been Ladybug and Chat Noir, out in the open, fighting Volpina. But that the mysterious person had come to their rescue as civilians prompted an entirely different insinuation. It implied that this "person" knew their identities. Sure, it was possible they'd been pursuing Volpina and had gotten involved as a result, but why wait until the two were clearly in peril? Volpina must have been skulking around the Agreste mansion for some time. Certainly there would have been another, better opportunity to strike. No, it was too perfect. They'd been rescued. Again.

But why? And how did this "person" know who they were at all? Why were they keeping to themselves?

Marinette didn't like it. And she could tell by the discomfort in Adrien's expression that he didn't either. But the nurse came in a moment later, silencing any discussion on the matter. She checked Marinette over, Adrien standing some to the side as she did. Eventually, it was promised that the doctor would be in to see her shortly, as she seemed to be doing generally well.

"I think I remember seeing them," she said once the nurse was gone, Adrien placing himself in the chair beside her bed. "I remember blue, but then…" She squished her eyes closed, trying to recall what little was there. "It must have been a dream."

"About what?" Adrien asked a little too quickly.

His haste, and the way he was scrutinizing her, caused Marinette to tense some.

"What were you doing before I woke up?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Napping…"

"Did you… dream about anything?"

"Maybe. Why? What did you dream about?"

"I asked you first."

"Ugh, jeez, just get to the _point_. You were sharing the same dream," Plagg muttered in exasperation from inside Adrien's collar. "Beat around the bush some more, why don't you."

"Plagg!" Tikki hissed, her voice coming from somewhere beneath Marinette's pillow.

"What? They would have figured it out eventually. I'm just speeding up this painfully slow process, that's all. A little gratitude would be appreciated."

Tikki sighed.

"We can share dreams?" Marinette asked, turning a bit to try and find Tikki. The kwami was sitting on the sheets just outside the pillow, probably so she could scurry away again if she needed to.

"It happens sometimes," Tikki explained. "Usually once you share a dream the first time, it happens more often."

"C-Can we control it?" Adrien asked.

"Not really," Plagg replied nonchalantly.

"If you really wanted to work at it," Tikki corrected, "you probably could. But most Ladybugs and Chat Noirs don't mind sharing the same dreamscape."

"Why wouldn't they mind?" Adrien squeaked. " _I_ mind."

"That's because you two are backwards," Plagg insulted.

"Plagg, please," Tikki scolded. "He just means that you two are going about things a little differently than most before you did. That's all. Your physical connection is much more developed than your… other links. And shared dreams are a physical connection."

"Yeah, but…" Adrien's face flushed with red. "I don't want to share dreams."

Marinette pursed her lips. "What's wrong with my dreams?" she rebuked. "You seemed just fine with it earlier."

"I didn't know what was happening!" he hissed, before clenching his fists nervously. "This is not good."

Mari frowned. "Why?" Normally, Adrien wasn't the type to shy away from these sorts of personal things.

"Because," he said through gritted teeth, glancing around nervously. "You know, because of- of-"

He didn't get the chance to finish. The door burst open first, both Marinette and Adrien whipping their attention around as her parents and Alya came filing into the room. Immediately, Adrien stood and backed up, staying out of the way as Sabine and Tom came up on either side of the bed.

Marinette did her best to give them a reassuring smile. "Sorry," she said, before anyone else could comment first.

"Don't apologize." Sabine replied right away, reaching out and caressing her cheek as Tom took one of her hands between his own. "We're just glad you're okay."

"The doctors said they weren't too worried—that they thought you'd wake up," Tom took over, "but we couldn't relax until we knew for sure."

At the end of the bed, Alya nodded in agreement.

"I didn't mean to worry anyone…"

"It's not your fault," Alya cut in, scowling as she did. "Volpina needs to get her butt kicked."

The mention of their attacker put Marinette somewhat on alarm, her gaze flitting only quickly to Adrien before returning to her parents. She didn't know what they thought had happened, what Adrien had told them or even what they'd deduced themselves. But it couldn't be all good. After all, she'd been assaulted in Adrien's bedroom, alone, with him. And while that might not be what was important in the big picture, it was a fact nonetheless.

"I told them what happened and why," Adrien cut in quickly, upon seeing Marinette's look of confusion. "It's my fault. I never should have suggested we wait out the storm in my house. Not when I knew Volpina had it out for me."

An explanation that gave Marinette more than enough to go on.

"It's not your fault that psycho is obsessed with you," Alya corrected.

"She's right, honey," Sabine added. "You can't blame yourself."

"It would have been nice, however, if you'd told someone what was happening." The deep voice startled them all, Adrien's eyes popping wide as he shoved himself from the edge of the nurse's counter. He stood straight, rigid, all focus going to the door.

There, tall and filling the doorway, was Gabriel Agreste.

"F-Father," Adrien stuttered, clearly uncomfortable and uncertain. Sabine and Tom shared a look as well, but Marinette couldn't read its meaning. Instead, she kept her focus on Gabriel as he came fully into the room, hands clasped behind his back.

"Had you told someone you'd been approached multiple times by Volpina," he was looking directly at his son as he spoke, " _measures_ could have been taken to prevent things like this." He raised his eyebrows knowingly, Adrien offering nothing in response. Instead, he stared down at his feet.

Beside the bed, Sabine sighed. "Hello, Gabriel," she said simply.

Cold gaze flitting from his son, Gabriel nodded lightly to her and her husband. "Sabine. Tom."

"You guys know one another?" Marinette asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"Of course," Sabine said simply, smiling at her daughter. "All parents know each other." Yet, her explanation did little in expanding the topic, Marinette daring to share a perplexed look with Adrien as her parents returned their attention to Gabriel. But all he could do was shrug in helpless confusion.

"How have you been?" Sabine asked, her question clearly directed at Gabriel. Her tone, however, wasn't exactly friendly. Neither was it antagonistic, however. Marinette couldn't really read anything from her voice, actually.

"Quite well, thank you," Gabriel replied, steely as ever. And it sounded as though the conversation would end there, but then Gabriel huffed and returned his attention to Sabine. "I hear you recently took a trip to Tibet. I hope everything went how you planned."

"It went… quite well, thank you," Sabine said, clearly mimicking his previous words before she offered him a tight smile. Was she mocking him? Marinette wasn't sure, but that was what it sounded like.

And Gabriel's cringing, forced smile seemed to verify as much, before he turned his attention, as well as his cold frown, on his son. "I came to tell you that the police want to speak with you. They were at the house and I told them you were here. But they can't speak to you without me present."

"The police?" Adrien replied.

"That's what I said," Gabriel replied sternly, Marinette barely catching the way Sabine rolled her eyes. "An ambulance was called to the house and two minors were reported assaulted. By a terrorist, no less."

"But- But isn't Volpina Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Tortue de Fer business?" Adrien dared to ask.

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. "One would think. But they weren't anywhere to be seen during or after the assault, so perhaps the law of Paris is beginning to feel differently." Marinette pursed her lips, knowing the words were meant to be insulting. Yet, there was nothing she could say to contradict them—not without potentially giving herself away.

"I expect they'll want to speak with you as well," Gabriel added, this time looking to Marinette. "The story is already all over the news, so I'd anticipate nothing less than the most _extensive_ investigation."

"We'll keep that in mind," Sabine replied for her. To which Gabriel tightly nodded before moving as though to go back out the door. But as he did, yet another visitor burst in.

"Marinette!" Nino exclaimed, sounding out of breath. "Adrien just texted me and said you were aw-aaagghh!" Hands raised defensively, Nino jumped away from Gabriel in surprise, obviously not having expected to find him there. "Holy crap!"

Gabriel was not amused.

"Don't just jump out at people like that!" Nino said accusingly. "Friggin' tree!"

Marinette tried to hide her giggle behind her hand, much like Tom stifled his own chuckle, but Sabine didn't even bother. Not holding back one bit, she laughed out loud, which only encouraged both Marinette and Alya to let loose their smiles.

Adrien remained quite serious, however.

Pointedly ignoring Nino, who was was still looking rather offended, Gabriel gestured to the door while looking at his son. Without a word, Adrien nodded and made his way forward. Until Marinette was watching his back disappear out into the hall, his father trailing after.

"He's always got a stick up his butt, doesn't he?" Tom asked once Gabriel was likely out of earshot.

"That's an understatement," Nino said unabashedly, moving around Alya until he was beside Sabine at the side of the bed. "How you doin,' girlie?"

"Oh, fine," Marinette replied, sighing lightly and watching in some amusement at Alya looking Nino up and down, amber eyes wide. He really did strike quite the figure these days—him and Adrien both. But while Adrien's muscle was wiry and thin, Nino was bulkier. Not in a body-builder sort of way, but muscular nonetheless. Add in the facial hair and he really didn't look anything like he had only a few months before.

"That's good. When Adrien told me that-"

"What have you been doing?" Alya interrupted, far too enamored to care about being rude. Reaching out, she petted the muscle of Nino's upper arm, which only caused him to flinch away.

"I've been doing lots of things," he said defensively. "Working out, for one."

"Clearly," Alya said flatly, before she let her hand drift up to his jaw. "What's all this on your face?"

"This? On my face? This is called manliness." Alya pinched the skin of his cheek, which he didn't appreciate. "Woman, stop touching me!" he snapped, pushing her hand away as he did. Marinette and her parents allowed themselves a short laugh, but didn't intervene.

"It's gotta be fake," Alya determined, causing Nino to gape. "You couldn't grow any facial hair a few months ago."

"People _change,_ Alya," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a rather superior manner. "Don't get all up in my business just because I'm evolving."

"Evolving? That's kind of a strong word, isn't it?"

Nino glared.

Leaving them to their bickering, Marinette turned her attention back to her parents, repeating one of her questions from earlier. "But, really, how do you guys know Gabriel Agreste?" Because she wasn't buying their whole "parents know each other" excuse.

Yet, her obvious lack of belief didn't sway their reasoning. "We told you, all parents get to know one another," Sabine repeated. "Why shouldn't we? Our kids go to the same school, live in the same neighborhood." Tom nodded along in agreement, but Marinette remained doubtful. Whether their reasoning made sense or not, she was pretty positive Gabriel Agreste wasn't the type to socialize with other parents. Especially not to the point where Sabine's previously lax and humored attitude would be justified.

"Well, maybe I don't want to go," Nino was saying, the fierce rebelliousness in his tone drawing all attention back his and Alya's way.

"I told you, everyone in our class is invited. But I'm not going to _make_ you do anything." She rolled her eyes, before making a very pointed display of putting her attention on Marinette. "I was going to invite you too, but you've been so busy," which resulted in her and Alya not seeing one another very often. "You know it's my birthday this weekend and my mom is letting me throw a party at our other house—by a lake. A tasteful party, of course," she made clear, looking between Sabine and Tom. "And I'd totally understand if you can't go because you're still feeling crappy."

"I want to go," Marinette objected, leaning forward just a bit. "I'll be fine by the weekend. Right?" She looked between her parents.

"If you're feeling better by the weekend, then of course you can go," Tom assured.

"But, uh, what about our schedule?" Nino asked.

Alya put her hands on her hips. "Schedule?"

"I'm sure we can take one weekend off," Marinette reasoned.

"Day off from what?" Alya asked.

"Our workout schedule," Nino, kind of, lied. "Me, Marinette, and Adrien all workout together." A fact that Marinette wished Nino had kept to himself. Especially when the look of befuddled curiosity overtook Alya's expression. She glanced between the two of them, Nino continuing to be petulantly defensive while Marinette turned her attention to the bedsheets.

Previously, Alya had prompted that they do more things together—like workout. Marinette had always had to refuse because of her Ladybug duties. But that wasn't an excuse she could use to defend herself. Which, really, made her look like about the worst friend ever. But perhaps that was a pretty fair analysis. She barely had the time to talk with Alya anymore, let alone hang out. Yet, there her friend was, at her side when she was hurt.

Even if it interfered with their training, she _had_ to go to Alya's party.

"Well, like Marinette said, I'm sure you can take one weekend off," Alya reasoned, Marinette only feeling all the guiltier that, despite having treated Alya so poorly as of late, her friend still had faith in her. "Or you could just not go," she continued, tone directed at Nino. "I wouldn't miss you."

Nino's shoulders slumped, the way Alya turned snottily away from him doing nothing in improving their attitude toward one another. Not that Marinette really knew what that attitude was in the first place. Alya wasn't like her—she didn't talk much about her feelings when it came to boys. But it was clear there was something still hanging between the two of them, even with the tension and sourness.

"Now, now, let's all keep things civil," Tom interjected.

"I'm sure missing one weekend of your 'workout' wouldn't hurt anything," Sabine added. "Everyone needs a break once in a while."

True, but breaks weren't really something Marinette, Adrien, or Nino could afford. Yet, so long as Alya's party wasn't too far out of the way, it might be alright.

It had to be—Marinette couldn't miss it. Balancing superhero life and real life was hard, but she refused to believe it was impossible. Besides, they'd been training hard—despite this most recent hiccup.

One weekend couldn't hurt. And it'd give them an excuse to avoid anywhere Volpina could be for a little while.

Everything would be fine.

**oOo**

"Mari?" Adrien called, pushing his way through her bedroom door.

"I'm just getting the rest of my stuff together," she replied from her work table, back to him as she rifled through a bag. Adrien had only one of his own, which he'd packed that morning under the supervision of his father. That was how things in his house worked these days. He didn't stay there at all, not after what Volpina had done, but he couldn't very well move all his things out and just live with Nino (he wasn't actually staying at Nino's—he spent a majority of the nights at Mari's). So when he did have to return home—to get his swim trunks for example—his father was with him at all times. Not sure what good that'd do if Volpina did come for him again, but maybe that wasn't the point.

"It's only one night," he said, shifting his weight from one leg to another as he watched her shove things into the already packed, pink bag.

"Don't judge," she said as she turned to him, dressed in a simple, white sundress and matching flats. Slinging her bag easily over her toned shoulders, she then reached for the large, floppy black sunhat hanging on a peg nearby, before pulling it over her head. Striking a pose, she spun once before grinning up at him. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, as usual," he said easily, allowing a devious grin to pull at his lips. "But I'd say that even if you were wearing nothing at all, so I guess I'm a little biased."

She frowned, shoulders dropping. "You think you're so smooth," she muttered.

She was right. He definitely did.

"C'mon, Alya and Nino are waiting downstairs," he said, chuckling a bit to himself.

"Together?" she asked, sounding far too aghast.

"In the _same car_."

"And they're not killing each other?" She placed an exaggerated hand on her chest. "I'm all amazement."

"It's true, My Lady," he assured. "Though it's probably better if we don't leave them alone too long."

"Unwilling babysitters, are we?"

"Seems that way."

"What are friends for, I guess," she said, before grabbing the large, wrapped gift off her bench. "Shall we?"

"Ladies first," he said, bowing as he backed away from the door.

"Oh, can you grab my purse for me?" she asked as she headed by him, nodding toward the pink bag sitting on her couch—the one she normally carried. "Tikki's not in there, but I have some cash and things."

"Sure," he replied, making his way over as she tapped down the stairs. He didn't notice, however, that the clasp wasn't cinched before he grabbed the chain. So as he did, the contents of the purse flew out around the couch.

Huffing, Adrien resituated his own bag as he bent down to pick it all up. Some cash, her bank card, her phone (thankfully it wasn't broken), and some kind of cheap, plastic compact.

Picking up the last bit, he flipped it over, only becoming more curious when he realized it wasn't a compact, but some sort of pill container. The top side was clear, a circle of colored pills lining the outside edge. In the center was a day counter, the little arrow pointing to the number that represented the exact Saturday they were currently on.

"What _is_ th-"

It hit him like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. Paling, he swore his heart came to grinding halt in his chest, hand tightening some around the small container. In that second, so many thoughts came careening into his brain that none could get through fully, thus leaving him in a state of frozen shock, before panic came surging up and scattered everything.

But, through it all, one giant question did manage to work its way to the forefront.

Why was Mari on _birth control_?!

Eyes wide, Adrien fumbled to shove the compact back into her purse, snapping it closed before he straightened. But he didn't head down immediately, too plagued with distress to remember that he was expected.

After all, there were only so many conclusions his inexperienced, teenage brain could come to. But none of those conclusions made any sense, and so he didn't know what he should be thinking. Because he and Mari… They weren't like that. Sure, they slept together, but they didn't "Sleep Together." They didn't _do_ anything. Mari'd made it clear she didn't want to and he'd never pushed the subject. That wasn't to say he didn't _want_ to do… things, but they hadn't even kissed yet! Except the time he couldn't remember, of course.

But that didn't count.

So why would she be taking this? Was she, what, making plans? Because if she was, it would have been nice if he'd been included in that discussion.

Unless… unless the plans weren't for him. Was she making plans to… with someone else?

No, that was impossible. Even though they weren't "together," they were still _together_. Besides, he'd know if she was spending time with someone else. They literally spent all day together as of late, and then he _slept in her bed_. He was the only option, right?

 _Right_?!

"Oh god," he murmured, feeling rather light-headed as he reached up and held his forehead.

He wasn't ready. Not as though he was unsure or didn't want to, but he just wasn't prepared. He'd expected to have warning. These things usually came along in progressive phases, didn't they? He'd have been able to stage everything out, look down the path and see when this would likely be happening.

He liked his schedules! This was _not on schedule_!

Okay, so there'd never been a schedule, because they _weren't like that_ , but should he have been making one? He'd just figured that, when it'd become an option, he'd have been aware of it on the horizon. Not that he'd get smacked across the face out of nowhere!

Unless he was jumping to conclusions.

"There are lots of reasons she could be on birth control," he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth only shortly. Girls took it for all sorts of things, or so he'd heard. Maybe she'd been on it for a while and it had nothing to do with him.

He needed to be rational about this. Even if she _was_ on the pill because she was thinking about him (stay calm), she wasn't going to spring something like that on him out of nowhere. She was the one that was keeping things… as they were. And he loved and respected her enough to be perfectly fine with that. When and if she decided to take things further, he'd be cool with it—schedule or not.

If he'd learned anything since he'd met Mari, it was that relationships and love never went according to plan.

He just needed to stay calm and… breathe.

No pressure.

Okay, there was a little pressure.

A lot of pressure.

Was her room always this hot?

The honking of a horn outside startled him, reminding him that he was, in fact, in Mari's room alone while his friends waited in the car outside the bakery. Fumbling with the purse, he headed quickly down the stairs. His brain, of course, kept much of its focus on his recent discovery despite how he tried to reason with himself, which, naturally, lead to unconscious thoughts of other things and he was _not in a position where he needed to be thinking about that_!

His father in a speedo, father in a speedo. Those were the types of things he needed to be thinking about.

It was bad enough that Mari had actually grown _used_ to his nearly-every-morning wood—he didn't need to be springing such things on her otherwise.

Or maybe it was good she was accustomed to it? So far he'd done a good job of dodging the dirty-dream bullet by sheer default of not remembering what he, and maybe Mari, dreamed about (and she'd never mentioned anything). But maybe her not being bothered meant she thought about it too? Dreamed about… things?

The birth control _hinted_ at a positive conclusion, but, then again, he didn't know exactly what she was taking it _for_.

No, _stop thinking about it_!

Why was this so confusing?

"What took you so long?" Mari asked as he finally walked out the side door of the bakery, where Alya's mom had the car parked and waiting.

"Uh, b-bathroom," he lied, unable to stop himself from blushing as he handed Mari her purse. They weren't in the car yet—were standing just outside the shop—and so Adrien had no defense when she grabbed his arm and halted his march forward.

"I can tell you're lying," she whispered, staring up at him accusingly.

"I'm not lying." He tried to pull away, but she held tight.

"I can _literally tell_ you're lying," she continued. "Your brain is practically yelling it at me."

He groaned.

"Why are you upset?"

"I'm not, I'm just… Can we talk about it later?" he asked. "They're waiting for us."

She didn't look like she wanted to let him go, but ultimately relented—if only because Nino, Alya, and Alya's mom were watching them. Marching to the car with Mari on his heels, he pulled open the door for her before sliding in last. With Nino on the other side and Mari in the middle, it was pretty cramped—especially with their bags (Alya got the front passenger). But such cumbersome items granted Adrien something to keep in his lap.

Just in case.

Alya, Nino, and Mari talked around him as they headed off, but Adrien kept his attention on the window. He was trying to stamp out his latest revelation, but the more he tried, the worse it got. Because not only was he confused, but the more he thought about the possibility, the more the heat gathered all over him. And no amount of thinking about his father in a speedo was helping.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass.

He knew Mari was watching him, especially when Nino and Alya fell once more into bickering between themselves. Her gaze was like a single needle burrowing deeper and deeper into the back of his head. To the point where it was almost painful. Or, perhaps, more like an itch.

Itches were meant to be scratched, weren't they? Though he reached up to rub through his hair, he knew he was stroking a mental sort of barrier as well, which—quite to his surprise—seemed to ease his defenses more than he'd expected.

_What is your problem?_

He jumped—physically jumped—and whipped around to meet the way Mari was glaring at him.

It wasn't so much that the words had echoed through his thoughts as it was the feeling—her intentions. And though he was surprised, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Tikki had warned them both—that the dream connection wasn't just for dreams. The dream-sharing was out of their control because it happened while they were asleep. When they were conscious, the way the connection passed between them was wholly different. Less fuzzing in and out and more straightforward. When they wanted to be, anyway. They'd experimented with it a bit the last few days, but this was the most direct Mari had gotten with him.

And he didn't appreciate it.

Ignoring her, he returned his attention to the window. Yet, she continued to pester him. She couldn't just barge in on his thoughts or anything (well, she could try, but that'd be wholly _rude_ and he'd definitely push back if she tried), but it was almost like she was poking him. Over and over and over again.

"Will you stop?!" he hissed out, whipping around on her and unintentionally blasting her with his irritation. He knew it because she flinched away.

This was really going to take some getting used to. It was like they'd had that one dream-sharing experience and suddenly the floodgates were wide open. And, to top it off, they didn't even know why it'd happened in the first place. All Tikki and Plagg ever said was that most Chat Noirs and Ladybugs could eventually do it, but that wasn't an explanation. And it was beyond Master Fu. They'd asked him, but he'd explained that such things were strictly between Ladybug and Chat Noir—that he had no helpful knowledge to offer them.

 _Sorry_ , he sent her way, though the apology was cut with short bits of annoyance as well.

Mari was already frowning up at him. And though her feelings wavered uncertainly, he could sense the way she wanted to push the subject. Out of concern, of course, but he just didn't want to talk about it, or "think at her" about it. He'd much rather keep his thoughts to himself at that point. At least until he could figure out how _he_ felt about the whole thing.

He was probably making something out of nothing anyway.

Turning away from her, he leaned his forehead back on the window and made it quite clear that he wasn't going to be discussing anything. Not trapped in the car anyway, even if they could throw thoughts back and forth. Their ability to "think" at one another was still new, which made it challenging to get across complicated concepts.

He didn't want to give her the wrong idea.

Eventually, her concern pulled away—back behind the borders of her own mind. Which he was thankful for. She did reach out and wrap her arm around his, leaning her head on his shoulder. And while he appreciated the sentiment, he really wasn't in that kind of distress. Having her so close and leaning up against him only made it worse—like piling one thing on top of another.

But he didn't dare push her away. It wasn't her fault he was _freaking out_!

They really needed to talk about interpretation, apparently.

Thankfully, the ride wasn't that long—only a little over thirty minutes—and Adrien was able to keep himself together. By the time they were filing out of the car, Nino had dragged Adrien into a debate with Alya about the current state of feminist media, which he knew next to nothing about and so had just blindly agreed with Nino on every point.

Though his concerns thrummed in the back of his thoughts, he was, thankfully, distracted as they made their way into the house.

It wasn't right on the lake since all waterfront property was either public access or didn't allow for structure building. But the property directly in front of the house abutted the lake, albeit it was covered in tall grass and trees. There wasn't a beach either, but Alya had explained that about half a mile down was where they'd actually be swimming, and where the rest of their class would be meeting up.

Having spent so much of his time _not_ in public school, this was all news to Adrien, but apparently his friends were all quite familiar with the beach in question. A very common place for all their classmates to come and swim, apparently. Which was why it wasn't so much that Alya was throwing a party as it was that she'd just told everyone to come hang out on that particular day. The only ones actually staying for her birthday, specifically, were himself, Mari, and Nino.

Which had come as a bit of a surprise, really. The Nino part, that was.

"So, what's going on with you and Alya anyway?" Adrien asked once he and Nino were alone in the guest room—where they'd be staying. Outside was the common area, Alya and Mari bunking in the room on the other side. Alya's mother would be sleeping in the master bedroom upstairs.

"What do you mean?" Nino asked, standing over his chosen bed while he rummaged through his bag.

"I mean, all you two do is fight these days and yet you're here, spending the night." The only reason he, Adrien, was even there was because Nino was. He and Alya got on fine, but they weren't exactly close.

"She invited me," Nino replied simply.

"But why would she do that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon, man," Adrien said, plopping down on his own designated bed. "You two haven't talked as, you know, _you_ since school ended." A few conversations between Alya and Tortue de Fer had occurred, but since Alya didn't know Nino was Tortue de Fer, that didn't really count for anything.

"Just because we haven't talked doesn't mean we're not still friends."

"Alright, fine, I'll accept that," Adrien compromised, "but you two haven't done anything but fight. Where's the appeal?"

"Look, she said I could come if I wanted to and I said yes," Nino explained, sounding exasperated. "It's complicated and I don't get it any better than you do."

If there was anything Adrien understood, it was "complicated." Especially when it came to girls.

"Well, at least it's nice to know she doesn't hate you," Adrien offered. "She wouldn't have even invited you if she did."

"You can't know that for certain."

"Uh…" He couldn't? "If you say so." Adrien shrugged—he didn't know what else to do. Maybe it was better to drop the subject altogether. Pushing himself back off the bed, he walked around to the other side—where his bag was sitting—before unzipping it and pulling out his bright green board shorts. Nino had done the same, though his own shorts faded from purple at the top to a bright, sunset pink just above his knees.

The topic of Alya seemed to have died a quick death and, able to tell that Nino was seemingly distracted—or maybe just troubled—Adrien decided to move on. Perhaps to something less likely to get his friend's boxers in a twist.

"So your mountain escape with Master Fu last weekend, how was that?" Adrien asked as he pulled his shirt off.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Nino replied seriously.

Adrien rolled his eyes. "You're so full of shit."

Nino laughed. "No, seriously, it was mostly guardian stuff. I can't tell you."

"Did you do all kinds of special guru things? Like clear your chakras and bathe in waterfalls and meditate in front of giant camp fires?"

"Dude, you watch too much anime," Nino replied, the two of them turned away from one another as they slipped on their swim trunks. "And, uh… yes. Yes we did."

"I _knew_ it."

"Shut up. I'm wise now."

"Yeah, okay."

"But no, seriously, it was a really cool experience. I feel a lot better about this whole… guardian thing," Nino explained once they were successfully covered. Together, they went to the large mirror above the dresser, Adrien arranging his hair as Nino rubbed his beard and flexed once. "Master Fu's a really good teacher. It's not like school at all."

"Well, no, I'd think not," Adrien agreed, supposing that maybe Mari was right, his hair was getting a little long.

"No, I mean, I get it, you know?" Nino went on. "I'm not getting lost or… left behind. I'm learning things that are important." Adrien turned to him, giving his friend his full attention. "And Master Fu doesn't get impatient or annoyed when I ask questions, and I'm not… ashamed when I don't get it. Because he, like…"

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows, waiting patiently.

"He believes in me," Nino admitted, voice a little quieter. "I've never had anyone believe in me before."

"I believe in you," Adrien assured, taking a step forward and laying a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, but that's different," Nino explained. "You're my best friend. Not- not my family or my parents. Adults always figure I'm good for nothing—that I'm wasting my time. My parents don't care what I do. They don't care about _anything_. But Master Fu… He's always telling me he knows I can get there. That I'm the right person for this."

"Of course you are," Adrien agreed, swinging around until he was at Nino's side and able to sling his arm around his shoulders.

"He's right, of course," Wayzz interjected, floating up in front of them. "I wouldn't have been comfortable with you as my master if you weren't capable. You should have faith in yourself, Nino."

"I know," he agreed, fingering the bracelet around his wrist. "It's just… nice to hear it from someone else. Someone who's, like, important. I don't know."

"I'm not important?" Adrien joked.

"You know what I mean," Nino mumbled. "Master Fu is just really cool, is all. Kind of like an awesome grandpa or something. I've never… had someone who, like, believed in me unconditionally."

Though Adrien did believe in his friend totally, he knew that wasn't what Nino meant. And so he didn't say as much, instead settling for squeezing his arm around Nino's shoulders, hoping that would get across how important Tortue de Fer was to the team. And he was glad, too, when Wayzz flitted up and settled on Nino's shoulder. Like a little rock—still, but steady.

Unlike another kwami he knew.

"Do we _really_ have to go to the beach?" Plagg complained, sufficiently ruining the moment as he hovered up before them, ears drooping as he frowned. "Can't we just… lay in the sand or something?"

Adrien rolled his eyes, pulling away from Nino. "You can just stay on the beach with our stuff if it bothers you that much. So long as you promise to be good." He raised a warning finger. "But you set one paw out of line and you have to stay in my pocket the whole time. In the water."

Plagg glared, but didn't object.

"I like the water," Wayzz said, tone rather smug.

Plagg hissed at him before swishing off into Adrien's bag. Wayzz disappeared into Nino's shorts a second later, the two boys sharing an exasperated look before they headed for the door. They took Adrien's bag on the way, which he'd emptied of his clothes. All that remained was sunscreen, towels, their wallets, and snacks (a lot of which was, unsurprisingly, camembert).

"You girls still in there?" Nino called, going to the door across the common area before knocking.

"Just go on ahead without us," Alya replied. "We'll catch up."

Shrugging, the two boys supposed that was that and so headed out into the sunlight. It wasn't humid or overly hot, which was nice. The drought seemed to have fully lifted, leaving a light breeze to counter the heat of the sun. Following Nino's lead, they wandered down an old stony path, their sandals flopping as the leaves above their heads whisped and danced in the warmth of the day.

Initially quiet, they were comfortable as they walked. But the lack of distraction only drew Adrien's thoughts back to previous subjects. As well as his anxiety.

Glancing up, he watched Nino's bare back moving ahead of him, frowning as he considered. He'd wondered—some time before—if it wouldn't be nice to have someone to confide in when it came to Mari. But their superhero lives were so connected to their civilian ones that it was hard to find such a person.

But Nino…

And he, Adrien, really was a little lost on the whole subject.

"Hey, Nino?" he asked a second later, gathering his courage. Nino grunted in acknowledgement in front of him. "Can I ask you about something? About… About something I found out earlier today?" Perhaps it was the vagueness of his inquiry, or the somberness of his tone, but Nino paused to look back at him, eyebrows furrowed as they came to a complete stop beneath the canopy of trees.

"What'd you find out?" he asked straight.

Adrien allowed his shoulders to slump. "I didn't find out on purpose," he clarified—just for good measure. "I was upstairs in Mari's room and as she walked out, she asked me to grab her purse because her hands were full. And when I grabbed it, all her stuff went flying out because the clasp was undone."

Nino narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, but didn't interrupt.

"So I started putting all her stuff back in, and as I was, I came across… something."

"Something?" Nino asked.

"Yeah…" Adrien reached up and scratched the back of his head, before sighing. "It was, uh… birth control."

Nino's eyebrows shot up then. "Birth control? Marinette's on birth control?"

"Some of the pills were missing, so, yeah, looks that way," Adrien muttered.

Seemingly pondering the knowledge, Nino clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "But, like, do you guys need her to be on birth control?"

A logical question.

"Well, no," Adrien admitted. "That's why I'm confused. I mean, it's her body, she can do what she wants, but I don't know what it… means."

"Huh… But girls use birth control for other things too, right? Like, skin stuff. And… lady-parts stuff. Maybe that's why she's taking it."

"Maybe…" As viable a reason as any, Adrien supposed.

"And, hey, you shouldn't worry about it," Nino decided, slinging his arm over Adrien's shoulders that time as they continued down the path. "You'll know if there's a reason you need to know. Even if she is taking it because of your… whatever it is you and her are, is that really a bad thing?"

"I kinda wish she'd told me, if she wants… that."

"Do you not… want to?"

"No, that's not it. I just want to be prepared, you know? I don't wanna screw it up or, I dunno, disappoint her? Having some warning would be helpful."

"You really think it's something she'd just want to do out of nowhere?"

"Not really, no…"

"Then why are you worried? Maybe she's takin' for a whole different reason, or maybe she's just bein' prepared. That's not a bad thing."

"No, of course not."

"Look, you and Marinette have a… weird relationship, which is totes cool. No judgement." Not like he was one to talk. "But if she hasn't talked to you about it, it probably means she's not, like, planning anything. I doubt she's just gonna pull you aside out of the blue and demand that kind of thing. Whatever her reasons are, she'll tell you if you need to know. Marinette's a cool chick—I don't think she'd keep it a secret from you if she thought you were involved. There's probably some other reason for it."

Which Adrien had entertained, of course, but hearing it from Nino settled his nerves some. And made him feel kind of silly for getting so worked up. He was right—if he needed to know, Mari would have told him. Beyond that, it was none of his business.

He wasn't going to think about it anymore.

Well, he was going to try not to.

Cresting the top of a sandy hill, the two boys separated as the trees opened up into a beach. It was crowded, but not overly full. And as they walked from the relative shade into the full sunlight, they kept their eyes peeled for anyone they knew. About halfway down the beach—grouped together before the water—were their classmates.

Kim, as usual, appeared to be antagonizing Ivan, who was doing his best to ignore it. Alix looked exasperated beside him while Rose tried to mediate. Meylene was standing behind Ivan, looking uneasy, while Juleka looked on in silence. Huddled under a nearby umbrella were Nathanael and Sabrina. Max was nowhere in sight, nor was Chloe.

"Things never change," Nino muttered to Adrien as they approached, who grinned. Despite getting continually closer, no one seemed to have noticed them. A few even spared them a few looks, but it was as if they were unrecognizable. Then again, maybe that wasn't so surprising.

"Yo, why're you always causing problems?" Nino asked as they finally met up with the group, all eyes flicking their way.

Kim quickly straightened, as though correcting his behavior. "Sorry Sir, we were ju- Auggggh!" Hit abruptly by the realization, Kim's eyes went wide before he pointed a rather accusing finger in their direction. "Nino?!"

"Uh, yeah," Nino replied awkwardly. He knew all these people, true, but he wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He'd once told Adrien that he could perform in front of strangers, no problem, but sometimes talking with people he knew was more draining. Which was a sentiment Adrien understood quite well, even if he was good at feigning ease.

"Oh my god!" Meylene squeaked, most of their classmates looking them gapingly up and down.

"You have a fuckin' _beard_!" Alix eventually shouted, the first to recover as she began laughing.

Self-consciously, Nino reached up and stroked his facial hair. "I don't know that I'd really go so far as to call it a beard," he defended, frowning. He kept it cut close to the skin, after all. A little thicker than five o'clock shadow, but hardly a beard.

"How'd you two get so tall?" Kim asked as he bounded up to them, measuring with his hand between his hair and Nino's red baseball cap, which he wore backwards. Nino was just about as tall as Kim, they all realized. And Adrien, who'd always been a bit taller than Nino, stretched even higher.

Which made sense, really. Gabriel was nearly six foot five. And while his mother had been smaller, it was no surprise that Adrien bordered on six foot these days. But seeing all their classmates from a new perspective, literally, really hit home how much they'd changed in the last few months.

"Uh, puberty?" Nino offered sarcastically, looking clearly unamused even as Adrien laughed. It was then, as Adrien glanced between Kim and Ivan, that he realized he was the tallest person in their class. Not by much, really, but the tallest nonetheless.

"But you're so…" Rose seemed to struggle with the right word, fidgeting in place as she eyed them both. "You're both so… in shape."

"Yeah, we've been workin' out," Nino replied, sounding a bit more confident now that the topic was off his facial hair. Adrien just rolled his eyes.

"Like, what, every day?" Alix asked.

"Actually, yes," Nino verified.

Kim slumped. "So not cool," he complained. Probably because he'd officially lost his position as "best in shape" in their class. "I bet I'm still faster," he said a moment later.

"Oh here we go…" Alix complained.

"Faster than me?" Nino asked. "Probably. Faster than him?" He gestured to Adrien. "Probably not."

"I'll race you!" Kim said a moment later, which caused Adrien to sigh.

"Oh, here comes Alya and Marinette!" Rose announced, both Nino and Adrien turning as Rose waved excitedly in the direction they'd originally come from.

She spoke the truth, Adrien easily able to the spot the two ladies as they made their way across the beach toward them.

Nino's tight-lipped staring was justified. Alya knew she was fabulous and wasn't afraid to dress to show it off. While he wasn't interested, Adrien could acknowledge just as well as anyone that she struck quite the figure when she wanted to. With the bust and hips to give her a clear hourglass shape, her burnt orange halter bikini top and matching hipster bottoms accented every curve perfectly. Add in her constant confidence and Nino couldn't really be blamed for being nervous.

Adrien was far more focused on Mari, however. He'd seen her in plenty of short-shorts and tight tank-tops—he'd even seen her in her underwear once—but this seemed entirely different somehow. Maybe it was because it was public, or simply because it was intentional on her part, but he was struck heatedly breathless whether he tried to keep himself calm or not.

Her string bikini bottoms were red, little tassels hanging down across her hips where either side was tied. Which revealed her proportionally long, toned legs. The top was a bit more modest. High-neck in style, it wasn't exactly revealing, but as she got closer, Adrien realized the pattern was a white background printed all over with little black cats.

It took all his self-control to keep the heat from rocking all through his body. But she really was… something. Pale, but the sun still sparked off her well-muscled form. She wasn't traditionally buff or overly muscular, but their workouts were designed to give them the best advantages for their respective situations. Which meant he could see the line from her bust through her bellybutton, and the light contour of her abs beneath her skin, becoming visible when the sun hit her perfectly. The way her shoulder muscles shifted—toned from constant practice with her staff and months throwing herself all over the city. Her thighs, while not bulging, were clearly lacking in extraneous fat, rounded by muscle instead. Add in how their "advantages" had allowed for her hips to widen just barely beyond what they'd been previously and the sway of her walk was… mesmerizing.

And perhaps Adrien would have continued blatantly staring were it not for the harsh poke at his back that startled him.

Jumping, he turned quickly around, only to see Alix standing behind him.

"Where'd you get this nasty scar?" she asked, clearly not realizing how important it was that he watch Mari get closer.

"Uh, accident," he replied vaguely. The scar, though healed, was actually what remained from their fight with Volpina and Queen Bee. While the media had pretty much covered why he had a bruise on his jaw—thus he assumed nobody had mentioned it—the rest of his body mars would be a mystery. At least they couldn't see the nasty mark that remained on the back of his thigh.

Using Mari as an excuse to avoid further explanation, he turned his attention back on her.

Yeah, those were definitely little black cats printed all over her swimsuit top. Another layer of heat dropped beneath his stomach, wedging itself there as Adrien forced himself to take deep, calming breaths.

"Happy birthday, Alya!" Rose called once they were finally within earshot. Bounding forward, she and Meylene halted the girls' approach prematurely, the four chatting as the others gradually migrated forward to meet them. Adrien and Nino lagged some, Adrien far too distracted with the curve of Mari's exposed body to consider much else.

He wasn't trying to be some slimy, creepy guy, but, well…

She honestly looked really sexy.

As the thought crossed his mind, Mari's head twitched around, their eyes meeting. It was in that split second that Adrien realized, too late, that he'd unintentionally sent the thought directly at her. Which, of course, brought a flush up from his chest through his face.

But, well, it _was_ true.

He sent that statement her way as well.

Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes, but he could see the pink in her own cheeks. And so, the red fading from his own person, he offered her a crooked grin and a shrug. Not like she didn't know he was attracted to her—might as well own it if she was going to let him.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the group. And Adrien, feeling more confident and less like he was swimming around in uncertain waters, straightened his shoulders and finally made his way over. Taking up a comfortable position behind her, he hardly paid any attention to the discussion going on, instead putting his focus on the gentle, yet strong curves of her shoulders, and the sweeping, graceful "S" of her spine. An "S" that bowed perfectly beneath those red bikini bottoms before-

"Will you _stop_?" She'd turned back to him, hissing through her teeth as her freckles were accented by another few layers of scarlet. _Keep your thoughts to yourself!_ she mentally yelled at him.

His smile widened.

"I'm only being honest, Bugaboo," he murmured quietly, which finally got her to turn to him fully—and gave him a better view of her cat-printed top. "I like your swimsuit."

"I can tell," she muttered, looking only momentarily irritated before that Ladybug confidence dropped abruptly onto her person. Stepping forward, she made an obvious point of ogling him up and down, which pleased him despite how he knew she was likely up to something.

"But be warned, Kitty," she whispered a second later, tapping him on the chest and allowing her finger to drag slowly down his bare skin, before her nail circled lightly just above the line of his board shorts. "If you're not careful," she went on, "I'll make sure that everyone can tell _exactly_ how you feel about me." Accenting her point further, she pinched the elastic band of his swimsuit before allowing it to snap lightly back against his skin, causing his breath to catch.

Smile tight, he cleared his throat as her actions did precisely as she'd warned she could. It was only the experience he had in keeping his cool these last months that carried him through.

"Touché," he murmured, supposing he had no choice but to accept her terms. Smug as smug could be, she poked him once on the nose before whipping back around to the group. Just in time for Kim to make an announcement.

"I will beat every. Single. _One_ of you," he was saying, pointing around the circle as though they weren't already exasperated with him. "I choose Alix for my team."

"Ivan and I will be together!" Meylene claimed a second later.

"Wait, what are we doing?" Mari asked.

"No!" Kim exclaimed in response, holding up a fierce finger. "You were too busy climbing Banana Tree to be paying attention! That's your own fault!"

"Banana tree?" Was he, Adrien, the banana tree? Why? And Mari had _hardly_ been climbing him. He'd _definitely_ have noticed that.

"We're playing chicken," Alya explained, which caused Kim to groan in annoyance. "So everyone needs to pair up."

If only because it was the perfect opportunity to do so, Adrien reached out and delicately took Mari by the hips, before sliding right up behind her. "Mari's my partner," he decided, giving no one, not even her, any choice in the matter. None of their classmates appeared at all surprised however, despite how Mari slumped. Which, he supposed, made sense. What had happened between them and Volpina had been broadcasted all over the news. It was safe to assume most everyone they knew had heard about it, which meant that they also knew it'd happened while Mari and Adrien had been alone in his house. This had all been part of the report, but it spelled out a few things that only a couple of suppositions could feasibly solidify in the minds of others.

Besides, not like he had any reason to hide "it"—whatever "it" was between Mari and himself. But it _was_ something, which was the important bit to acknowledge.

It didn't take much longer for everyone else to pair up. Nathanael ended up with Rose, because being a guy somehow meant he could lift her while others couldn't? While Juleka and Sabrina stayed to the side, content to watch.

And so it was five groups of two—Alix on Kim's shoulders, Meylene on Ivan's, Nathanael with Rose, Alya with Nino, and him with Mari. Nathanael and Rose were the first to go down, which wasn't so surprising, but what seemed to affront Mari the most was that she and him didn't last much longer. Ivan and Meylene were eventually crowned the victors (much to Kim's outrage), but rematches were called and so they were soon all up in the air again.

The game itself—the girls cradled on the boys' shoulders while they tried to push one another over in the water—was hardly Adrien's main focus, however. He was much more distracted with Mari's legs clamped down around his neck, as well as the feeling of her toned thighs beneath his grip as he held her aloft. He knew she was irritated with his lack of focus, which only inspired him more—thoughts of the softness of her skin and body heat drifting between them until they were, once again, pushed over into the water.

"Why are you being such a sleaze?!" she hissed as soon as they'd cleared the water from their faces, the two of them dripping as the lake waves rushed up against their abdomens.

Adrien grinned, sliding his hand through his hair so as to get it out of his face. "Because it bothers you." A true enough explanation. But he knew that, even if she was annoyed with him, it wasn't really offensive to her. While his thoughts were generally more focused on her than the game, there was always a thin lining of pleasure that came along with her reprimands—mental or otherwise.

"You are being so infuriating right now," she claimed, though he got the feeling she was more frustrated with the situation than with him. Of course, he was certain that could quickly flip if he pushed the wrong buttons. "This is absolutely ridiculous."

Behind them—having drifted some ways off—the other four groups continued to battle. They'd been the first ones to go down that time, so it seemed.

"Who knew you were such a sore loser, Mare-Bear," he teased.

"I'm _Ladybug_!" she growled quietly, slapping her hand against her wet swimsuit. "There's no reason I should be losing at _anything_!"

"Oh, my apologies," he feigned, raising his hands defensively. "Am I bringing you down?"

"Yes! Because you can't think about anything but my thighs and my skin and- Ugh! I'm so disappointed in you right now!"

Adrien snorted. "Well, maybe you should make sure your thighs are less enjoyable to grab." He shrugged, not at all bothered by her flat, unamused expression. "I'm only human—I can't stand up to the wonder that are Ladybug thighs."

She huffed. "I need a new partner…"

"I didn't know you were so competitive," he lied. He knew she was _terribly_ competitive. He'd been training with her long enough to have learned that lesson ages ago.

"I want to _win_!" she claimed in frustration, smacking the water before whipping around and making her way back toward the group. Just as Alya and Nino were coming up out of the water, also losers. "Nino!" she called harshly. "It's game time!"

And so Adrien was paired up with Alya. But it was fine because he really wasn't that intent on winning and neither was she. They all ended up watching in the end as Mari and Nino tried vainly to topple Ivan. But even with their valiant efforts, Ivan never tipped. No matter how many times they played the game, the winner was the same every time. Even when Mari exchanged Nino for Kim, their combined rage and determination was not enough to claim a winning round. Ivan and Meylene went completely undefeated.

Eventually, Kim got too tired of losing to keep trying. And so the group broke up, the previous challenge from earlier—as to whether Kim could beat Adrien and Nino in a race—commencing. Most of the others had drifted—either to get snacks or find shade—and it was only Alix who remained to make fun of Kim when he ultimately lost to Adrien 4 times (he really hadn't tried that hard, honest). The challenge was then moved to the water, but Nino won every swimming attempt without batting an eyelash. Until, finally, Kim was exhausted, distraught, and collapsing to the beach in shame.

Adrien felt a little bad, but Nino assured him that losing would be good for Kim—maybe deflate his ego some—and so Adrien didn't spend too much time worrying about it. Instead, hair beginning to dry in a crinkled mess around his face, he scanned the beach until he found Mari sitting beneath an umbrella. She was talking to Nathanael, laughing, and the sensation of her un-censored mirth drew him in immediately.

Leaving Nino, he headed across the sand, grinning to himself once he caught Mari's eye. He also happened to catch Nathanael's attention, the shy boy saying only a few more words to Mari before he scampered off. Adrien could only attribute their classmate's retreat to his approach, and he felt bad about that, but not bad enough to do anything about it.

Instead—while Mari rubbed sunscreen across her arm and made a blatant point of _not_ looking at him—he flopped down on the beach towel beside her own, the umbrella big enough to shade them both. Yet, even then, she went on pretending as though he wasn't even there, and so he merely revved up a few thoughts about how lovely her swimsuit was and the state of her long legs, which got her turning on him within seconds.

"You're incorrigible," she stated simply.

"You love me."

Gagging, she stuck out her tongue.

"Did you see me earlier?" he asked a second later, leaning back on his hands as he allowed his legs to stretch out before him. "Racing Kim? Did you appreciate the view?"

"I didn't see a bit of it," she lied. There was a little smirk pulling at her lips that told him the truth.

"You should be proud," he continued, leaning even closer—until his chin was practically hovering over her shoulder. She'd moved on to her other arm with the sunblock. "I won every single race."

"Did you?" she asked, allowing her grin to stretch as she turned toward him. "I do like winning."

"Yes, I know, but I hardly think you can take any credit for me winning races on my own."

"No, perhaps not. But," she tapped the tip of his nose, "I do prefer my man be a winner."

"Your man," he purred, scooting even closer—until their bodies were flush up against one another. Reaching out, he gently slipped his hand around her thigh, fingers trailing along the inner muscle while his thumb slowly stroked her soft skin.

"Of course, there are other credentials he has to fill as well," she teased, the two of them still smiling shamelessly at one another.

Truth be told, Adrien was both pleased as well as surprised that she was encouraging him as far as she was. Not surprised in a shocked sort of way, but more so because it'd simply been unexpected. Not so long ago, she'd made it clear she didn't want anything romantic between them, not in the most expected definition. But here she was, thrumming little beats of praise between them while he just barely tightened his hold on her thigh. But it made sense—that they'd eventually move on. The dream/thought sharing they'd developed had probably helped to move them forward as well. The skill wasn't uncontrollable, but they were both still adapting, which made it much harder to hide things from one another.

Adrien wasn't blatantly blasting at her how much he wanted her, yet the hint that slipped through was more than enough. He had no intention of acting on such sentiments, but it was somewhat… relieving, not having to totally hold back.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured, their noses almost brushing as their stares locked together.

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," she countered, blinking those big, blue eyes. "I happen to think you're quite beautiful too."

He smiled fully. "Is that so, My Lady? I'm flattered."

She hummed in satisfaction.

And, maybe, if they'd been alone, the heat between them would have transformed into something else. But the beach was crowded and they both knew more than one eye had focused in on them before quickly darting away. For all of Adrien's desire, he didn't want their intimate moments to be viewed by an entire horde of people. Even a kiss was too private. There was so much going on in their lives, so much weight, and he knew that, perhaps, their feelings had developed much faster than their ability to express them, which meant there was that much more feeling behind every action they took. A kiss might have been easy or mean little to someone else, but nothing between he and Mari had ever been that light. And when they did finally decide to take a step forward—small or not—Adrien didn't want an audience.

Based on the way Mari soon began to pull away, her smile still sweet—if lacking some of its previous deviousness—Adrien safely assumed she felt the same way.

Neither of them needed validation from the other about how they felt—they were both secure in that knowledge. Which meant that there really was no rush or reason to push when neither of them felt they needed to.

When the time was right, they'd get there.

"You really do look mangy these days," Mari started as his hand slowly drifted from her person. "Your hair is a complete mess."

"Yeah. It's gonna be horrible to brush later." He could feel the way the locks were clumping as they dried, though they still dripped with wetness. Damp as it was, his hair stretched some below his jaw, plastering to the back of his neck in thick strips.

Reaching up, Mari pushed some of it back away from his face, before a thoughtful frown overcame her expression. At her silent bidding, he turned away, allowing her to run her fingers through the locks while they were still damp enough not to have knotted. Adrien was quite accustomed to his hair being pulled on and so he didn't complain when her handling got a little rougher, instead sitting silently as his hair was stretched back against his skull, held taut before he registered a vague tightness at the back of his head.

When Mari finally removed her hold, his hair remained locked back in place. His bangs were still too short, and so fell some around his forehead, but the rest remained in the tiny ponytail she'd secured.

Turning back to her, he saw that one of her pigtails was free, the other one pulled loose a second later before she began running her fingers through her own hair. Silent, Adrien watched as she shifted all of it to one side, before quickly braiding it over her shoulder and tying it with her remaining band.

She smiled up at him shortly after, before tapping his shoulder with the back of her hand.

"You should put on more sunscreen," she said simply.

"Eh, I planned on staying here for a while," he admitted. "Take a nap, maybe." He shrugged. "So long as you're here."

"I _suppose_ I could stick around for a little while," she decided, laying fully back on her towel. Staring down at her for just a moment—admiring the view perhaps—Adrien soon laid down beside her. On his side, he snuggled close, laying one of his arms across her bare stomach while his nose brushed lightly against her damp hair.

The smell of sunblock and _Mari_ lulled him to sleep.

When he slowly woke up later—he didn't know how much later—it was to the sound of soft voices around him. One was Mari, the other, he eventually deduced, being Alya. He also registered that he was in a somewhat different position than when he'd originally fallen asleep. Or, rather, Mari was. Vision bleary, he opened his eyes just a slit, realizing that his head was no longer resting on the towel, but in Mari's lap. Her legs were crossed, making for a nice pillow, and he closed his eyes again as her fingers lightly messaged the skin behind his ear.

"You two are official now, huh?" Alya was asking, Adrien knowing what she was referring to despite having only just begun listening in.

"Uh… k-kind of, I guess," Mari replied. "We worked everything out, anyway."

"Worked everything out?" Alya sounded thoughtful. "Speaking of: Since when do you, Adrien, _and_ Nino work out together?"

"Er, well, you knew Adrien and I were working out together. And then Adrien invited Nino. I would have invited you too, but I knew you and Nino weren't getting along and I wasn't sure…" It was a good cover story, Adrien decided. So long as Alya didn't jump on the bandwagon and decide she wanted to work out with them whether Nino was involved or not.

"There's nothing going on between Nino and I that needs to be worried about," Alya said, her tone a little shorter than probably necessary.

"All you two do is bicker," Mari pointed out.

Alya sighed. "Look, Nino hasn't so much as sent me a single text since school ended. That hardly makes us friends, let alone anything else. I think that makes it pretty clear where we stand."

Mari didn't respond right away, but Adrien could feel her churning over how to reply. "For the record, Alya," she started quietly, "you didn't text him either."

Adrien showered her with mental praise for that one. Not that he was encouraging Mari to start an argument with her best friend, but both Alya and Nino were being immature about their feelings and it was good that they realize it.

Alya's lack of response said more than enough on the subject.

"Look, Alya, whatever it is that's going on between you and Nino is none of my business, and I have no right to say anything after the… rollercoaster Adrien and I have put ourselves through. But, if there's anything _I've_ learned, it's that lack of communication is the worst possible ingredient for making anything work."

"Maybe I don't want to make it work," Alya reasoned defensively.

It was Mari's turn to sigh. "Then you two need to figure that out. There's clearly something hanging between you two—don't try to deny it—and both of you being totally stubborn about bringing it up just makes you both salty."

"Salty?"

"Yes."

The silence between them was thick.

"Adrien and I were going through a rocky patch for a while," Mari cut in eventually. "And maybe we made some poor decisions, but we _did_ work it out. This has been going on between you and Nino since the end of the school year—before that even. It's not fair to either of you."

"What's not fair is that I'm supposed to be the one to fix it," Alya sliced in, clearly annoyed. "Where's he been this whole time? I thought we'd started something back when we were in school and then he just stopped being interested. I'm not going to chase him around. I've got better things to do."

"I think he is… pursuing you," Mari replied. "In his own… way…"

"What way is that?" Alya rebuked. "I haven't noticed anything." Well, she _had_. She just didn't know it was Nino. But that wasn't exactly helpful to the situation.

Mari huffed. "Look, I don't care who's chasing who or _whatever_. All I know is that every time you and Nino are in a room together, it gets awkward for the rest of us." Adrien knew Mari's scolding voice when he heard it. "So either end it or talk about it, I don't care, but you're just as responsible as he is. Be the bigger person, please. Before I'm forced to do something for the sake of my own sanity."

" _Your_ sanity?" Alya chuckled.

"Yes. Or I'll lock you both in a room and throw away the key."

It'd worked well enough the first time, Adrien supposed.

The finality in Mari's tone seemed to have backed Alya into silence, the conversation dying. Which allowed for Adrien's thoughts to drift off into sleep again. When he woke later, it was at Mari's prompting, her reasoning being that they were all going to get food. And so they spent the rest of the afternoon with their classmates, eating and playing other games. Until the sun finally began to set and those not staying at Alya's were picked up to leave.

Just the remaining four, they slowly made their way back to the house. There, Alya's mother greeted them only quickly before retreating to her room upstairs. Changing and drying off, they were soon redressed, Adrien choosing to don his bed clothes. The others did similarly, all four sitting in the main room eating junk food for a time, until the snappish attitude between Alya and Nino finally became too much for Mari.

"I'm going to go get some fresh air," she announced abruptly, standing. She didn't have to look at Adrien or say a single word—he'd already been invited to join her. Leaving the table together, they went out the front door, Adrien trailing through the darkness as they made their way over the sandy grass toward the lake. Weaving in and out of trees, they eventually reached the edge, the water splashing up against the dirt ridge where the shore dropped away.

"They need more alone time than they realize," Mari muttered as she plopped down, Adrien sitting beside her. Above them, the sky was clear, bright with moonlight and the stars beyond. It was still hot, but not humid, and the light breeze from earlier continued to whisper through the trees.

"They're so passive-aggressive with each other," Adrien agreed. "But I guess they had to put up with us when we were fighting."

"Not for months on end."

"That's true."

"I just don't quite get what happened," Mari admitted. "One moment they were together and the next it just… fizzled out."

"Nino doesn't think he's good enough for her," Adrien explained. "He's intimidated by her. And I think that got to him."

"That's just silly. He's more than good enough for her."

"Sometimes… that's harder to see than you realize." Adrien hadn't meant to be subdued, or to throw up defensive mental shields. But it happened before he could stop it, which drew Mari's questioning focus directly to him. "You have to understand it from Nino's perspective too," he explained, hoping to divert the conversation from himself. "Alya's got a lot going for her. She's already a well-known journalist in Paris, she's confident, she knows what she wants. That's a scary girl to get close to."

"Why?" Mari asked. "Because she's accomplished?"

"Because Nino doesn't think he measures up," Adrien corrected shortly. "He has goals, but they're not as certain as Alya's are. And, you know, eventually he's afraid she'll figure out she's better off without him. It's easier when he's Tortue de Fer—it's like he's more worthy now. Or something."

Mari watched him thoughtfully. "Are we talking about Nino, or are we talking about you?"

"C'mon now, Bugaboo," he said quietly. "You know _we've_ been over this already."

She hummed, glancing back out across the water. "I think you boys just make things too complicated for yourselves."

He cocked a curious brow.

"We don't have a list of requirements in our back pocket that boys have to measure up to," she explained. "Well, most of us don't. Alya doesn't care about those things—she likes Nino for who he is. Otherwise, she wouldn't waste her time with him in the first place." She looked his way again. "It's the same for me and you. I like you for you. Everything else is just extra."

"Even when I'm being a sleaze?" he asked, grinning.

"Unfortunately." She rolled her eyes. "You have your own recipe for charm, I suppose."

"Is that your way of saying you like it when I send you my lewd thoughts?"

"It's my way of saying I tolerate some parts of you for the benefit of others."

"Me-ouch!" Leaning back, he scrunched his nose. "So cruel. You know, you're really not much of a lady at all."

"I suppose that wholly depends on your definition."

"That's true." Narrowing his eyes, he looked her up and down. "No matter the definition, you're _my_ lady, and I guess that's all that really matters. Even if you are lacking in manners."

"Manners?!" she squawked. "Don't even get me started on which one of us is lacking manners, Kitty. I could cite an entire day's worth of impropriety from you."

"And around we go. I know you like it when I'm inappropriate."

"You don't know that."

"Your thoughts tell me different." He leaned in close. "In fact, they tell me the exact opposite."

"You're an expert in mind-reading, huh?" she asked, that arrogant little smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. "What am I thinking about now, then?" Bringing her hand up, she trailed one sensual finger down his chest, all the while bombarding him with images of himself on the beach that day, shirtless and wet.

"I'm offended," he murmured. "How dare you objectify me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Kitten," she replied, pulling back. "Next time, I won't even bother to look." And, as if to prove her point, she glanced abruptly away, closing off her thoughts in the same moment.

"You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried," he rebuked. Yet, still, she refused to turn back toward him. "I'm too irresistible."

Had that been a derisive snort?

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Struck with an idea, Adrien smirked before having a quick look around. Establishing the obvious—that he and Mari were totally alone—he reached down and pulled his shirt up over his head, before standing. With a simple flick, he tossed his shirt onto her shoulder.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, pulling it away before whipping around on him. "What are you doing?!"

"Proving a point," he said simply, before grabbing his lounge pants by the waistband and dropping them to the ground.

Mari's eyes went wide, her hands tightening around his shirt as she looked him up and down. He was still wearing his boxer-briefs, so it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, but the implication still stood.

"Uh…" Her eyebrows had come smashing together, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes off me," he said simply, winking at her before he took hold of his boxer-briefs.

"Wha-What are you doing?" she stuttered out, sitting ramrod straight.

"Your thoughts are making it quite clear what you're curious about," he said, which only mortified her further. "I'm just obliging you, My Lady. Besides," he nodded toward the lake, "I bet the water's still pretty warm."

"You keep those on," she practically threatened.

"Haven't you ever wanted to go skinny-dipping before?"

"No!"

"Well, it's something I've always wanted to scratch off my bucket list."

"Adrien!"

"You're more than welcome to join me."

" _Adrien!_ "

But he was quite serious. And so he pinched the edges of his boxer-briefs before sliding them down his legs. Snapping her hand over her eyes, Mari blinded herself completely, gasping in outrage when he kicked his underwear into her lap.

"See you in the water, Bugaboo," he smarmed, before turning on his heel and stepping out into the lake.

"The water? Again?" Plagg complained, hovering by his shoulder. "You two play your human games—I'll be waiting in that tree." And so he blurred off, Adrien knowing full well that his kwami companion was simply giving them privacy. He appreciated the thought, even if he was certain nothing was going to come of the situation.

He was only messing with her, more than happy to dive beneath the surface and out into the water—far enough to return his modesty.

It was cold, and sent his skin crawling, but he knew that going under completely was a far better way of growing accustomed to the chill than any other option. Once he'd been under long enough, he surged up again, pushing his bangs out of his eyes while the rest of his hair remained retrained in his ponytail.

Mari was still sitting on the shore, hand over her eyes. Which had him laughing.

"C'mon!" he teased, tapping the water with his hands. It was up past his waist, the sand sinking between his toes. "It's not cold!"

"I don't care if it's cold!" she rebuked, finally finding the courage to crack her fingers apart and peer out at him. Upon seeing that all that needed to be was appropriately covered, her arm fell away, revealing the glare wavering behind her flushed face.

He beckoned her with one finger.

"I'm not going out there," she said simply, pushing his clothes off to the side.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to." Her arms slammed across her chest.

Adrien's smile never left his face. "Well, well," he goaded, "looks like you really are a loser when it comes to chicken."

"You're so immature."

Her accusation didn't stop him from folding his arms up and clucking at her.

"I'm _not_ a chicken," she claimed, before getting to her feet.

He kept up the clucking. Which, of course, only irritated her further. Growling, she stomped her foot, hands balling into fists at her sides.

"Fine!" she eventually shouted, which caused Adrien to stop his shenanigans right away. "But you better close your eyes!"

"W-wait, you're coming out here?" he asked stupidly, unable to fully comprehend the notion.

"That's what I said, isn't it?!" she yelled, incensed as she pointed a harsh finger in his direction. "Now turn around and close your eyes!"

Too shocked to do anything more than he was ordered, Adrien spun away and, just for good measure, covered his eyes with his hand. He really hadn't expected that she'd take him seriously. Mostly, he'd imagined her rolling her eyes until he eventually gave in and came back out of the water. That she was following his lead at all had his heart beating hard and fast, the sounds of her undressing behind him all the more jarring as he gulped.

"Keep your eyes closed," she ordered, before a light squeak echoed behind him. "Oh my gosh, that's cold."

"Are you in the water?" he asked, more so for his own stability than because he wanted to turn around. Granted, he _did_ want to turn around, but he was also a little afraid of doing so.

"No! Don't move!"

And so he didn't, constantly bombarded by his own disbelief as he waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

"Are you in the water _yet_?" he asked, finally beginning to get used to the situation. Which, really, said a lot about how long it was taking her to get in. "What are you doing?"

"It's really cold!" she defended, sounding only a little closer to him.

"It's not _that_ cold."

"Don't turn around."

"I won't, but I'm gonna get all pruny at this rate."

"Ugh!"

He shifted his weight, able to ease some of his discomfort with time. After all, this was Mari. He was in love with her. He should be thrilled she was willingly getting into the water, naked, with him. But while he was, er, "excited," he was also wound up with nerves. Together, these two sensations twisted inside his stomach, only deep breathing keeping him somewhat collected and in control.

"Mari, just go under," he recommended.

"Don't push me!"

He huffed.

"Fine! You can turn around!" She didn't sound happy about it, but she'd given him permission, so he took advantage. Only moderately prepared, he spun, easily zeroing in on her some two meters behind him.

The water was up past her hips, sitting at about her bellybutton, and she had her hands cupped protectively over her breasts as she cringed down at the waves that slowly came up and splashed higher against her skin.

And, for a moment, Adrien was stuck not knowing how to feel. Upon seeing her completely unclothed, whether he could see anything or not, sent a jolt of heat through his whole body. She was clearly trying to retain some modesty, but the sight was still one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Now, there was plenty out there that would be considered more suggestive, but this was _Mari_. And it wasn't some fantasy—she was standing right in front of him. And the water, as well as her hands, were only _just_ hiding everything from sight.

If anything, how much of a torment that was made the whole thing that much worse—in a good way.

But then there were the nerves—because she really was standing there, totally naked, and he was naked, and the water wasn't exactly a formidable barrier between them. And, to be totally honest, Adrien had never seen a naked girl before—not in the flesh anyway. But this wasn't just any girl, it was Mari—the only girl he'd ever really wanted to see naked in the first place. And though she was more focused on the water than him, she was coming closer, and he had no idea what to make of that or what to do. Or what he was allowed to do. Thankfully, his anxiety put up mental shields without him even having to think about it, and so his mental panic was hidden from her.

Yet, creeping in past his worries was something he hadn't expected.

While the moonlight dancing over her pale, bare skin was enough to send all his blood south, there was something so completely… comical about how she was holding herself. Maybe his frantic thoughts had scrambled his brain, but the longer he watched her, the more his nerves were replaced with amusement. It really wasn't that funny—listening to her squeak about how cold the water was while she sluggishly toed her way forward, hands clasped tight over her breasts. But it struck something in him that eventually had him laughing, doubled over in the water as his forehead dunked just barely into the lake.

"Stop laughing!" she commanded, teeth gritted as she glared at him. But he couldn't stop—couldn't control it. It bubbled out of him whether he wanted it to or not, until all his nervousness and stress had escaped with it. And, even then—though he tried to take a deep breath—the sheer sight of her had him laughing all over again.

Head thrown back, he let her glare at him all she wanted, hands coming up to mockingly hold his own "breasts" as he kept laughing.

"You're a jerk!" she eventually shouted at him.

"Then get in the water already!" he rebuked, though it took him a second to gather himself enough to do so. Unable to hold back on his smile, he did limit his amusement to only a sputtering of laughter, which didn't seem to please her any better.

"It's cold!" she reasoned, before casting another cringe at the lake.

"You didn't have any problem getting in earlier," he pointed out, hands moving to his hips.

"That was different," she whined. "There were people watching."

" _I'm_ watching now."

"That's not the same. I don't care what you think."

He scoffed, but supposed her justification was some sort of inadvertent compliment.

"Just go under."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh my god…"

Arms dropping down into the water, Adrien continued to watch as she slowly moved closer, flinching every time a new wave came up and rose a little higher on her abdomen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said a moment later, gesturing her way, "I give you the hero of Paris."

"The water is _cold_ , Adrien!"

"It's not." Gesturing flippantly, he accidentally flicked a bit of water in her direction, which caused her to stop stone-still.

"Don't do that," she said, tone far too serious.

"What? This?" He flicked a few more drops her way, more than satisfied when they splattered across her arms and stomach. She twitched away, glaring even harder—if that was even possible.

"Stop it."

"I'm only trying to help," he defended.

"I'm trying to _acclimate_!"

"Well, we're both gonna be old geezers before you do." Daring to be a bit bolder, he cupped both his hands beneath the water before tossing a small splash her way. She turned immediately, which allowed for the water to coat her bare back—the sight of which sent another intense surge down through Adrien's stomach.

Gasping, she shivered before turning her frown on him. "Adrien…"

He splashed her again.

"I can't defend myself!" she reasoned, teeth grinding as her hands clasped more tightly around her breasts.

"Get in the water already and you won't have to worry about it." He kept splashing her.

Growling, she continued to try and shy away, but no amount of turning was granting her sufficient defense. Until, finally she decided to do what she could to fight back. Shifting so she was successfully covering herself with one arm, she brought her free hand back and skimmed the water, which successfully sent a wave bowling in Adrien's direction.

He covered his eyes, unable to move fast enough to avoid it. And while he "appreciated" her efforts, he was already wet and so getting another soaking hardly fazed him. She, on the other hand, was practically begging for something worse.

"No, don't!" she squeaked when he clapped his hands together and brought them around to the side. In one swift motion, he sent a giant wave barreling her way, causing her to squeal as she put her back to it defensively. But it hardly mattered. She was sopping wet by the end, hair dripping as Adrien readied another assault.

Despite how she shivered and limited herself to one hand, she countered with another splash, their frenzied attempts coming together in one mad flood as they continued the battle. With water coming his way constantly, it was hard for Adrien to make out what she was doing, but that hardly mattered. He put his focus on splashing as much water her way as he could, laughing even as he had to close his eyes against the surging spray.

He hadn't realized they'd been creeping closer together—probably an unconscious effort to gain an advantage—until his flailing limbs collided with hers. Battle-trained brain jumping on the chance, Adrien scrambled to grab hold of her even as she tried to both avoid and get ahold of him at the same time. Which eventually ended with the two of them trying to blink the water from their eyes as they grappled and lightly scraped at one another.

Within moments, Adrien had managed to get her by the wrists, gritting his teeth as he tossed his bangs out of the way while trying to simultaneously hold her steady.

And while their clash had managed to momentarily distract him from their state of undress, the reality of such came crashing back as his eyes caught on the fact that—in her efforts to fight back—Mari had completely forgone her concerns about modesty.

She, too, seemed to come to the same realization, breath catching as her arms went limp in his hold. But she didn't struggle, or pull away. Rather, she simply stood, watching him as he blatantly stared.

He couldn't help it. He knew that, to a certain extent, he shouldn't be as transfixed as he was. Plenty of women had breasts and, truth be told, they really weren't that different from anyone who didn't. But no amount of rationalizing was making it any easier for him to look away, or control the surging heat that dropped like a pile of hot coals between his legs.

She was breathing hard, chest heaving as thin streams of water trickled down between her very-obviously-there breasts—bare and open to the elements, and completely visible in the moonlight. Round and soft compared to the rest of her, yet fitting seamlessly with the other subtle curves of her body. With the exception of her nipples, which were pink and hard as a result of the chill.

The streams of water eventually settled into droplets, dotting her skin and only making the scene before him that much more tempting. Yet, for what purpose, he wasn't sure. He just knew his mouth was dry and his whole body tickled with yearning, beading unbearably tight between his legs.

He couldn't think—didn't want to—and instead just kept staring.

Until her voice rocked him harshly back into the moment.

"Adrien?" She sounded hesitant, unsure, and that was more than enough to jerk him back from his desire.

"Sorry!" he blurted, painfully ripping his attention from her. He looked pointedly over her head, his heart beating so hard he could feel it thumping against his chest. "I didn't mean to- I wasn't- S-Sorry."

"It- It's okay," she said quietly, the words slow to sink in. A second later, Adrien remember that he had her restrained, the playfulness with which he'd grabbed her evaporating as he hastily let her go.

"Adrien…"

He didn't know what to say, his whole body feeling jittery. And he knew there was no point in trying to calm the activity between his legs.

"I said it's okay," Mari said softly, Adrien daring to drop his gaze to her own. "You- You can look. If you… want to." Her cheeks flushed a light pink, but there was nothing uncertain in her stare. Which Adrien had to forcefully digest as his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

She just offered him a shy smile.

Her allowance made it that much more difficult to control himself, his focus falling once again to her breasts. _Mari's_ breasts. Which she was giving him permission to see.

_Can I touch them?_

The thought was out and directed at her before he could stop it, his eyes going wide.

"Shit, I did not mean to… think that," he admitted, caught somewhere between arousal and mortification as his gaze remained locked in place. He didn't know what to do, supposing it was easier to keep staring—because she was letting him.

He really just wanted her to tell him what to do. Or not to do. Or _something_.

He should have known he was doomed the second she'd followed him into the water.

"O-Okay," she said quietly.

"What?" he blurted.

 _I said okay_ , she thought toward him, a jolt of expectant excitement coming along with it. _You can touch them._

_Please touch me._

He had the feeling she hadn't intended that last bit to get as far as it had, but knowing that she wanted him to touch her gave him the purpose he'd been needing. Something to put his attention on so as not to fall victim to his scattered thoughts. Blinking, and swallowing hard, he twitched his gaze back up to hers, taking in her nervous certainty before once again dropping his attention lower.

Moving through the water, he hesitated for only a second before raising his hands. The touch of her beneath his palms, and the sound of her light gasp, had his skin pulsing, stomach flipping inside a sea of butterflies as he gently cupped each of her breasts.

She leaned into him, hands coming up to anchor themselves lightly against his underarms as she practically placed herself in his hold.

Daring to press a little harder, a wave of arousal washed through him as her soft flesh formed to his touch. With the exception of her pointed nipples, which seemed to burn holes through his palms.

He need to remember to breathe.

"They-they're not… They're not very big…" she said quietly, tone somewhat breathless despite her insecurity.

"They're perf- You're perfect, Mari," he managed to get out, breathing much harder than was really warranted. But she was letting him touch her, _wanted_ him to, and maybe that was reason enough.

He didn't want her to think there was anything about the experience that was somehow unsatisfactory, and so he pushed as much of his excitement through his thoughts as he could. Toward her, so she'd understand just how entirely and totally turned-on he was.

She hummed, apparently taking his wave of pleasure as reassurance enough, which brought a small smile to his own lips as he flicked his gaze up to her own.

"Everything you expected, then?" she asked quietly.

"Better," he assured, meaning ever word of it. "And… heavier than I thought they would be."

She giggled, Adrien moving slightly closer as he leaned his forehead against her own. He didn't take his eyes off hers, but allowed his hands to squeeze a little harder, before shifting them enough that he was able to massage her nipples with his thumbs. Which pulled a pleasured gasp from her lips, the sound only encouraging him further. But, better yet, was the eager longing that tripped from her thoughts into his.

Pressing closer, he splayed his fingers around the sides of her breasts, cupping them once more as her breathy gasps danced across his lips.

"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, wanting—more than anything—to see more of her. To pull more of _this_ from her. Suddenly, the thought of doing so wasn't nearly as daunting as it had been earlier that day. She was there; she could tell him. He'd do anything. Just so long as she'd keep breathing him in, and calling him closer.

Wanting him.

"Adrien…" she whispered.

Saying his name _that way_.

He'd never witnessed anything more profound.

How he _wanted her_.

Like lightning striking down between them, the sound of a snapping twig nearby ripped them apart, the separation so severe that it felt like whiplash in both body and mind.

Dropping his hold, Adrien had no choice but to let Mari snap away, his attention flicking to the shore in alarm. It was hard to focus at first—muddled with lust as he was—but he eventually made out a figure coming through the trees. Beside him, Mari sank down into the water, flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears as she dropped down to her nose. He didn't bother hiding, didn't have the concentration to do so, and instead watched blankly as Alya appeared out of the shadows.

"Uh, what are you two doing?" she asked, a sly smirk making its way onto her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Just, um, s-swimming," Mari explained, coming up out of the water enough to speak.

"Yeah, swimming," Adrien agreed dumbly.

"I bet," Alya replied, that smirk only growing as her gaze darted down to the sand, where their clothes were strewn around haphazardly. "Well, you two enjoy 'swimming,'" she countered, bending down and gathering Mari's clothes into her arms. "I'll just take these inside."

"Alya! No!" Mari shouted, surging forward beneath the surface.

But Alya was already scurrying around, grabbing as many pieces of their clothing as she dared before she was scampering back off into the trees, cackling the whole way.

"Alya!" Mari shrieked.

She didn't come back.

For a moment, neither Adrien nor Mari said a single word, Adrien finally managing to gather his thoughts together as he stared at the shore. It wasn't until Mari groaned and slapped her hands to her cheeks that he gathered enough sense to really realize their predicament.

"Why would she do this?" Mari moaned, standing up straight. Before slapping her fists against the water. "Alya!" she hollered. "Bring us back our clothes!"

There was no response, naturally. The silence was only permeated by the washing sound of the waves against the shore.

Adrien chuckled.

"This is not funny!" Mari said fiercely, whipping around on him. "We can't stay out here all night!"

"Of course not," he agreed, before beginning to slosh his way forward.

"Where are you going?" she asked frantically, grabbing him by the arm before he made it by her.

"She left my shirt," he said simply, motioning to the lone remaining clothing piece in the grass.

"You're going to _leave_ me here?" she whined, clearly betrayed.

"No, of course not," he assured. So much for using his shirt as a means of cover while he went and retrieved their clothes. Based on the tightness with which Mari held him, he wasn't going to be asking her to wait anywhere.

"Quite the pickle you two are in," Plagg teased, both their kwami's coming down to buzz around their heads.

"We could transform," Adrien said.

"We could…" Mari replied thoughtfully. "But what if Alya saw us?"

It'd basically been out of the question before he'd even mentioned it.

"Look, how about this?" Adrien started, gesturing again to his shirt. "You can wear my shirt back—it's long enough. Alright?"

"I- But what about you?"

He waved her off nonchalantly, before pulling back toward the shore. She followed close behind, fingers barely skimming his arm as they slowly bared the rest of their bodies to the world.

"I'm not looking," she mentioned quietly, once they were making their way back into the grass. Adrien, honestly, didn't care if she looked or not, but supposed that if she wasn't ready to see him fully, he should probably be mindful of her. He probably wasn't ready either.

Holding his gaze forward, he bent down and retrieved his shirt, before covering his eyes as he faced her. Holding the shirt out blindly, he allowed her to take it and waited until she gave the go-ahead to look.

The shirt was long and, because she was wet, it plastered itself quite sufficiently to every nook and cranny of her body, but that wasn't so unlike her Ladybug suit. And she, quite to his amusement, had her eyes stubbornly closed.

"C'mon," he said, reaching out and taking her hand. "I'll lead you back."

"But what about you?" she asked, more than willing to trust him as he pulled her gently into the trees.

"What about me?" he asked, shrugging despite how she couldn't see. "Don't worry about it." His confidence eased her, and so they made the short trek back to the house with little else said on the subject.

It wasn't until Adrien was guiding them up the front steps that Mari finally began to pull back.

"Adrien…" she said warningly, as he reached for the doorknob. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that she'd finally opened her eyes, though she was keeping them pointedly trained on his shoulders and above.

Grinning, all he offered her was a wink before he pushed his way inside.

"Oh he-eeEEEYYAAA!" It was Alya that shouted, Adrien taking far more satisfaction out of her reaction than he really should have. Behind him—no doubt scarlet with embarrassment—he heard Mari whine.

But it was too late.

"Ah! Holy shit! Cover your eyes! _Cover your eyes_!" Nino shouted, surging out of his chair before slamming his hand over Alya's face. "Save your innocence!"

"Goddammit, Nino, get off me!"

"I'm saving you!"

"Lemme tell ya," Adrien said as he walked in fully, "nobody's gotta be saved from this." He gestured to all of himself, offering only a shrug before he reached out and retrieved his clothes from where they were crumpled on the center table. Holding them below his waist, he was just in time for Alya to fight her way free.

Behind him, Mari whined louder.

He pointed to Alya. "Thank you," he said, both she and Nino gaping up at him. "You're so thoughtful for bringing these in for me." He pointed to the clothes situated so nicely beneath his hips. "I _appreciate_ you doing that."

Offering them all one final wink, he looked only quickly at Mari to establish that she was safe and sound and covered, before he headed off toward his and Nino's room.

The hysterical laugher that broke out behind him was more than enough reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These kids, man. I dunno, they crazy. 
> 
> A lot happened in this chapter--let's see how much of it ya'll actually processed ;)


	18. Part Two - Do We Get What We Deserve?

Huffing, Adrien shifted over the sheets—until he was lying on his back. _You should come over here_ , he thought quickly. Blinking up into the darkness, he tapped his fingers on his chest and waited. It was kind of like texting, this whole thought-sharing thing, only with much more than just words.

While he laid in the darkness listening to Nino snore nearby, he put his focus on the churning that wavered just barely outside his own thoughts. Mari was keeping somewhat to herself, but was still present enough that he could tell she was deliberating. There were no shields, but she was keeping her distance.

He frowned.

 _I know you want to_ , he added. Her "consciousness" had been creeping closer and closer to his since they'd turned in for bed. Granted, he'd been reaching out to her in the same way, but that was beside the point. What was important, and making it difficult for Adrien to sleep, was that it'd been days bordering on weeks since he'd slept without Mari and having her so close yet not with him was making him anxious and fidgety.

He could sleep without her, of course, but she wasn't keeping her thoughts to herself and neither was he, which only kept reminding him that she was just a room away and that, generally speaking, he preferred to cuddle her while he slept than not.

 _Is that really okay?_ She eventually asked.

_Who cares? It's just Nino and Alya._

_That's true…_

More wavering deliberation. Adrien yawned.

Seconds later, the feeling of her consciousness retreated completely, but there was no sense of rejection, and so Adrien listened and waited. He was rewarded when he heard the soft clicking of a door beyond his room. Shortly after, his own door was quietly opened, Adrien turning over as she closed it behind and silently padded up to his bed. Lifting the sheet, he welcomed her as she slipped up beside him.

"Why, good evening, My Lady," he whispered, both of them grinning as they snuggled closer. Until they were lying face to face, Adrien reaching up to slip his arm around her waist while she tucked herself up against him. Noses nearly touching, they giggled quietly, both unexplainably jittery.

"Hello, Kitty," she murmured, one of her fingers twirling over his t-shirt. "I'm glad to see you're dressed."

"Are you? I thought we'd already established that you preferred me with my clothes off."

"Well, preferences aside, I'd rather the shared admiration of your… exhibitionist-like attitude be limited."

"You saying you want me all to yourself?"

"I'm saying that any more from Alya about the the state of your manhood might just put me over the edge."

He barked a laugh. "She was talking about my 'manhood?'"

"She was… offering to give me detailed descriptions."

"I could send you a mental picture, if you want," he offered, waggling his eyebrows.

She pursed her lips. "You start sending me mental-dick-pics and I'm going to leave."

He laughed again. "I would never do you the dishonor, My Lady."

Which she knew perfectly well and so quickly overcame what Adrien knew was feigned sourness in order to giggle, her legs kicking lightly into his own beneath the covers.

"I swear to _god_ ," starting, both Adrien and Mari leaned up and glanced across the room, "some of us are trying to _sleep_ here." Nino's silhouette was sitting up on the other bed, no doubt looking their way.

"Sorry," both Mari and Adrien whispered at the same time.

Grumbling, Nino flopped back down, the other two sharing a look as they settled once more into the sheets.

"And don't do anything weird over there!" Nino added. "I don't want to listen to it!"

"Weird?" Adrien muttered. "What could we possibly do that's weird? I mean, I know _plenty_ we could do, but it's all natural and nor-"

"You know how I am about sleep," Nino threatened. "I _will_ murder you."

"I'm so glad we're friends," Adrien added, pleased that his statement elicited a giggle from Mari.

Nino growled, but didn't bother with a response.

And so the room fell into silence, both Adrien and Mari grinning at one another despite their scolding. Still nestled close, they pressed their foreheads together, simply watching one another. Until Adrien felt what was becoming a familiar nudge—Mari's thoughts trying to enter his own.

_Everything's okay with you, right?_

The question was vague and unspecific, and Adrien didn't initially know what he was supposed to attribute it to—whether it was over their recent "escapade" in the lake, Nino's harsh words, or even something else entirely. His confusion wavered between them, whether he'd intended it to or not.

 _This morning_ , she explained. _You were upset about something._

Oh, right, _that_.

He didn't bother trying to hide how exasperated he was with himself, or even how stupid he felt over the whole thing. Which didn't clarify enough for her and only earned him a pair of curiously furrowed brows.

 _You're going to think I'm an idiot_ , he explained, flushing as he awkwardly twitched his gaze from hers.

A kind of patient, inquiring hum was all he got in response.

Closing his eyes, he considered the best way to explain what had happened, ultimately deciding to try and simply send her images—as she'd done with him previously. Her bedroom, his view of her walking down the stairs, the purse on her couch. All her things flying out, his own short-lived irritation as he bent down to collect it all.

His curiosity at the pill-container, before it was quickly overtaken by anxiety and confusion as he shoved it back into her purse. Nervous questioning while he paced. Insecurity. Before he ultimately pushed through the shame at having gotten so worked over something that wasn't even his business or worth the attention in the first place.

Which was quickly followed by a muted apology as his skin once more flared red. At least it was dark.

 _That was why you were upset?_ she asked, something between surprise and humor filtering toward him.

 _I was caught off guard_ , he claimed, defenses rising some. _I wasn't aware that we were… thinking about that kind of thing_. It was a strange thought. While he knew he had no right to impose on her choices, he couldn't help including himself in the equation. Perhaps it was more of a question than an observation.

The way she screwed up her mouth, a light blush trickling into her own cheeks, told him next to nothing. And, unfortunately, the connection between them had become stiff and guarded.

 _I'm only on it because my mom wants me to be,_ she explained a second later, her thoughts seeming somehow strangled and closed off. Not defensive, just… restrained. _She just wanted me to be prepared._

 _Oh…_ He glanced away, still doused with awkward embarrassment as he looked around the shadowed room. _Do you think you need to be prepared?_

Was that an appropriate question? He had no idea. It'd slipped across before he could stop it.

Her thoughts came to him in jilted fractions. _Shouldn't- shouldn't someone always be… prepared?_

A question that, in this circumstance, he didn't know how to answer. Which, unfortunately, left his mind blank. And while one would think this would be a good defense against wandering thoughts, it really only allowed easier passage for that which Adrien might have wanted to keep more to himself. No obstacles in the way, so to speak.

_Do you want to have sex with me?_

"Shit," he muttered, jerking away as if he could actually separate himself from the thought. Rolling onto his back, he yanked his arm from around her waist, instead covering his forehead with his hand. Her own consciousness had sprung away from the question in the same moment, as if to leave it hanging heavily between them.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispered, able to feel the heat from his face warming his fingers. "I didn't mean to think that at you."

"You're really not very good at this, are you?" she asked quietly, tone subdued.

Clearly, he wasn't. At least, not compared to her. How many times had his thoughts gotten the better of him and rushed past before he could stop them? She hadn't embarrassed herself nearly as many times, which only added insult to injury.

 _You don't have to answer that_ , he eventually settled for thinking, somewhat rigid beside her as he tried to fortify his mental controls. He wasn't sure if he was successful or not, seeing as neither he nor she, nor anyone else, had any advice on how they should deal with their new connection.

Rolling over beside him, Mari mirrored him on her back, sighing softly as she stared up at the ceiling.

 _It's kind of cute_ , she eventually decided.

_What?_

_You. You're like an excited puppy—you can't hold yourself back._

She was laughing at him. Even though she wasn't _actually_ laughing, he could tell.

_Sorry…_

_Don't be. I'm used to it._

_Used to it?_

_Of course. You're always like that. Guess it makes sense your thoughts would be too._

_Gee, thanks._

A pleasant sort of humming seemed to vibrate between them. He got the feeling it was her way of reassuring him, as it _was_ somewhat comforting. Still, he'd like to avoid embarrassing himself in the future, even if she was overly forgiving of some of the things he sent her way.

 _I like it,_ she eventually admitted. Her statement drew his gaze her way, head turning as he stared at her profile. _It's really honest, that you're so direct. Makes me feel…_

A sense of security floated up between them.

_Even when I ask you inappropriate questions?_

_I thought you'd already decided that I liked your improper behavior?_

He snorted, turning away. Just in time for Mari to flick her gaze in his direction instead.

 _I wish you wouldn't be so self-conscious_ , she admitted. _Like about the dreams. I know it bothers you, but it doesn't bother me._

_I have my reasons for being bothered._

_And I don't?_

Their eyes met.

 _What's that mean?_ he asked.

She shifted back onto her side, smiling at him through the darkness. _I have things to hide too—things I always thought I'd be able to keep to myself. Things that… keep me up._ In the long hours of the night—that was the implication he got, which sent his heart pattering a bit faster. _But if we really can't hide it, then I guess there's no point in fussing over it. It is what it is._

 _You seem to have adapted well enough._ That wasn't usually her forte.

 _Maybe…_ She appeared contemplative, one of her fingers tracing circles over the sheet between them. _Or I just… don't want to hide those sorts of things from you. Not anymore._

The same memory drifted between them, one from only a few hours before. The lake, their words, the sensations they'd shared with one another. It made Adrien's skin hot for reasons other than embarrassment, and gave him a new sense of courage. Reaching out, he delicately trailed his fingertips down her arm and was rewarded when her light shiver ricocheted through him as well.

Her blue eyes held his steady, bright even in the darkness.

_Yes._

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

 _The answer to your question,_ she explained, thoughts seeming abruptly shrouded. As if she were being shy. _Yes. Not- Not right now, or anything, but, yes. Someday. With you._

His heart surged up into his throat.

_Ever since I've… realized how to want, I've wanted it to be you._

Her words sent warmth spiraling to the base of his stomach. Though there was some sensuality attached, he likened it more to a sense of raw tenderness. And serenity too. Something that ached in his fingertips when he touched her and tightened in his chest when their eyes met. No anxiety, but anticipation. And all of it was strung together with a sense of certainty, which made it a little easier to be patient when, perhaps, others wouldn't have been.

Maybe it was his lack of response while such things roiled inside him, or his definitive acceptance of her words, but she could only keep her gaze steady for so long before she was overcome with embarrassment. Hands coming up to her face, she covered it and let out a soft whine before curling in on herself.

Chuckling softly, Adrien slid a little closer, wrapping his arm around her back as she tucked herself up against his chest. Nose nestled in her hair, he closed his eyes, content as his consciousness reached out for hers. They slipped together, like two streams running quickly and steadily into a pool—a pool that sat still and secure. Not permanent, but stable.

 _Adrien,_ her thoughts were only small ripples, _do you think that… that the miraculouses have anything to do with… this?_ _With how we… feel?_

 _Does it matter?_ he asked, tightening his hold around her. Yet his answer didn't seem to grant her any comfort. _I feel how I feel, Mari. Whether there's some kind of other influence doesn't invalidate that. It's our truth for as long as we want it to be._

_You're so certain._

_Of course. I was certain the first day you came crashing down on top of me. Seems you were falling for me from the very start, My Lady._

_It's a comfort to know I didn't do it on purpose._

_Such sass._

_It's good for you—keeps you in your place._

_My place?_ He rolled his eyes _. Well, so long as my place is with you, I can't really complain._

A kind of pleased approval buzzed up through her, nose nuzzling further into his shirt as she reached around to hold him as well. Legs tangled with hers, Adrien was pulled to sleep with her own drowsiness, feeling more relaxed in being so intimately wrapped up in her consciousness than he ever had before. He knew they shared a dreamscape whether he liked it or not, but there'd been a sense of paranoid defensiveness prior. Yet, if she shared in the same longings he did, then maybe there really was no point in being self-conscious.

As she'd said, it was what it was. Sharing dreams meant being unguarded with one another—being uncontrollably vulnerable—and maybe that allowed some of his thoughts to get across despite how he'd rather they didn't, and maybe she'd be in the same predicament. Maybe they'd remember come morning, maybe they wouldn't. No matter the case, her presence and her words—which wove continually against his own—secured him. Anchored him, really, and allowed him to spread his consciousness unhindered, together, with hers.

Whatever came their way, they'd deal with it.

It was this security—spurred by her own silent reassurances—that allowed him to sleep without interruption, and wake up feeling more well-rested than he had in a long time.

The following day felt altogether lazier than the previous, Adrien and Mari withstanding teasing from their best friends over their bed-sharing with only a few light blushes and pointless excuses. After breakfast, all four kept to the privacy of the nearby lake property, swimming and lounging about beneath the sun spattering down through the trees. As afternoon rolled around, Adrien found himself lying in the grassy sand, somewhat sodden but drying slowly.

Nino was in the lake, using his likely recent affinity for water to outdo them all quite sufficiently as far as swimming, while Mari had taken it upon herself to go to the main beach to get them all ice cream. Adrien had offered to go with her, but she'd refused the assistance. And as Adrien knew for absolute certain that she was more than capable of getting ice cream on her own, he hadn't pushed the subject.

Alya, well, she'd just plopped down in the grass beside him.

Dripping with water, she was wringing her hair out over one shoulder, seemingly watching the lake. But that lasted only a few moments before her attention flicked to him.

Grinning, she tossed her hair down her back once it was wrung, leaning back on her hands as she raised a perceptive brow in his direction. And Adrien—knowing Alya would more than likely voice what was going through her head sooner rather than later—tapped his fingers on his bare chest, closed his eyes, and waited.

"So," she started after only a few seconds, "you and Marinette seem to be getting pretty serious."

He'd always been serious about Mari, but he couldn't very well defend such a notion to Alya. "Maybe," was all he offered instead.

"Happened awfully fast."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yup."

Alya huffed. "Until a little while ago, I thought you were, what, dating someone else?"

It took Adrien only a moment to deduce why she'd come to such a conclusion. While Mari hadn't divulged the honest truth of their situation, if she'd confided in Alya, he could imagine how a conversation might have gone that would lead to such an assumption. It wasn't exactly something he wanted to discuss, however, and so he decided it was best not to elaborate.

"Not really."

"Not really…" Alya repeated, only getting all the more frustrated with his vague responses. "Marinette was under a very different impression."

He sighed. "Mari and I have talked it over," he explained, finally beginning to get a little irritated with her persistence. Not that he was overly surprised at her attitude—she _was_ a reporter. "Don't worry about it."

"Marinette's my best friend. I'll worry about it if I want to."

Adrien clicked his tongue and considered telling Alya off—that it was none of her business. But then thought better of it. If Mari had confided in her, then it wasn't entirely her fault she wasn't privy to the whole situation (which he was actually kind of thankful for). While he was a little annoyed at her protective words, starting something wouldn't really do any good. Especially since he couldn't exactly expand in any fashion that would be a viable defense.

He didn't have to defend himself to her anyway. Mari was the only one deserving of such attention. And, well, his previous actions were hardly worth defending anyway.

Best not to say anything at all.

"You do that," he finally replied, rolling onto his side—away from her. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Adrien!" she squawked, clearly offended.

"What are you yelling about now?" It was Nino who asked, Adrien safely assuming he'd come up on Alya's other side, based on the location of his voice.

"Adrien's ignoring me," she said sulkily. "He's pretending to be asleep."

Nino grunted. "A commendable feat."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means you're hard to ignore."

"Are you calling me a loudmouth?"

"You said it, not me," Nino defended, not sounding the least bit perturbed.

"You said enough to imply _something_ ," she rebuked shortly. Adrien was easily able to imagine how her arms probably slammed across her chest.

"You were probably being nosier than you should be," Nino replied easily. "Not everybody likes to be interrogated, Lois."

There was a slight pause following Nino's evaluation, one that Adrien didn't think much of. Until, like a giant epiphany had come crashing down on top of them all, the air sparked and Adrien's eyes flew open.

Alya spoke slowly, almost threateningly. " _What_ did you just call me?" Her words were breathy, airless even, but heavy nonetheless, and Adrien's heart hiccupped violently in his chest.

Nino wasn't recovering quickly enough. With each silent second that ticked by, he lost any control over the situation he might have had. And Adrien, who was wordlessly begging Nino to say something—to come up with some sort of excuse—could do nothing more than slowly sit up and turn to look at them. Alya was facing away, Nino pale and wide-eyed under whatever stare she was giving him.

Lips pursed, Adrien tried to catch Nino's eye—to urge him to come up with an excuse. Say he'd been watching the Ladyblog and laugh it off as a name he'd thought was clever on Tortue de Fer's part. Act clueless at least. _Do something_. If Alya figured Nino out, it wouldn't take much to put the pieces together. One of their identities lead to another these days, what with the time they spent together.

It was pertinent that Nino recover. Necessary.

And yet…

"Nino…" Alya said severely.

"Uh…" Eyes shifting from side to side, he still completely and utterly failed to come up with anything, Adrien beginning to gape was he watched the situation unravel.

"Y-You know what," Nino finally managed to cough out, gesturing toward the house, "I think I… left the television on? I'm- I'm gonna go check." Spinning on his heel, he practically _ran away_ from them, Adrien choking on his own helplessness as he watched.

"Nino!" Alya called harshly, but their friend didn't heed her. And Adrien, blood cold, pushed through his own panic enough to get a warning across.

 _Code red!_ He mentally announced, shooting the thought to Mari. _Nino fucked up!_

_What?!_

Part of Adrien couldn't believe what Nino had just done, while another part of him knew they'd all been struggling to keep up their act around Alya. When she was the only one in their friend group not aware, slipups sometimes happened. But usually they weren't this huge. And generally they could come up with something to turn attention in another direction. Yet, even if Nino had managed to find an excuse, Adrien wasn't sure if it'd ever have been believable.

He'd practically announced himself, using that nickname.

 _Nino called Alya Lois_ , Adrien explained frantically, swallowing hard as he watched the way Alya's thoughts splashed over her profile. She was figuring it out, probably already had. Shit, what did he do? The only other time he'd dealt with someone figuring out anything, it'd been his father. Which was hardly a worthy comparison and in no way prepared him to deal with the situation.

_He called her what?_

_Lois! Oh shit, Mari, what do I do?!_

Alya was Mari's friend, after all. She knew her better—she'd know what to do. What to say, maybe, to make this whole thing better. He needed to get to Mari.

Quietly trying to keep to himself, he turned from Alya, getting onto his hands and knees as he tried to slink away. But like a bird-of-pray going in for the kill, any movement drew her attention. He could feel her eyes on him without even looking and knew he was trapped as soon as her hand snapped out and wrapped tightly around his ankle, holding him in place.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Cat-Boy," she hissed, nails digging into his skin.

Adrien let out a pathetic, helpless whine. _Mari!_

Abruptly bursting from the trees, Mari was panting, holding precariously onto their ice cream as she surveyed the scene. "What's going on?!" she blurted, clearly looking for some kind of emergency. What she got was the sight of Alya holding Adrien hostage. He closed his eyes, at a total loss for what to do, and instead listened to the way Alya's breath caught, her nails digging almost painfully into his skin.

 _She knows,_ he thought, pushing his dread and defeat along with it. _She_ _ **knows**_ _._

Mari's shock was like whiplash across his brain, spurring him to crack one eye open. She was standing some two meters in front of him, lips parted as she stared.

At Alya.

Alya, who barely sounded as though she was breathing.

He didn't have to look to know the girls were watching one another, and would have inferred Mari's growing panic even without their mental connection. Though he wasn't the one at fault for what had happened, he still felt overwhelmed and guilty. He didn't exactly blame Nino—he'd had his fair share of blunders as well—but that didn't change what had happened, or the fact that two best friends were now staring at one another, one having been living a life of lies while the other had done everything in her power to find the truth.

It was an unpleasant juxtaposition, and a reveal that shouldn't have been as violently surprising as it was.

Or as quickly pushed aside as necessity dictated.

"Hey!" Nino's harsh call caused them all to jump, every head snapping around to where he was standing, breathing heavily, on the edge of the trees. "We've got a situation!" The horror at his previous words was gone, the weight of his tone one that both Mari and Adrien were all too familiar with.

"What is it?" Mari asked, ripping her gaze from Alya.

"Turns out I did leave the television on," Nino joked, though there was bitterness lacing his voice. "There's a report on the news—something you guys need to see." Which was more than enough information to kick both of them into high gear. Without hesitation, Mari was bee-lining it across the sandy grass, Adrien about to jump to his feet—were it not for the hand still clamped around his ankle.

Craning around, he twisted in Alya's hold until he was able to reach down and grasp her wrist. Which startled her, the way in which he easily snapped her hold from around his leg leaving her arm limp in his hold. Her lips were parted, like everything about the situation was still churning around in her head. And though Adrien was sympathetic and wanted to help her through the situation, he had other obligations which demanded his attention.

Pursing his lips, he squeezed her wrist a little tighter—trying to get across just a small bit of reassurance—before he deftly stood and jogged off toward the house.

Both Mari and Nino were already inside by the time he was breezing his way through the door, both of them at the back of the main room watching the large television that was suspended on the wall. Nino was on the couch, remote in hand as he turned up the volume, while Mari stood behind, a single hand on the sofa-back while the other fiddled with one of her pigtails.

Coming up behind her, Adrien lightly touched the base of her back as he trained his attention on the news report.

" _There is still no sign of Ladybug, Chat Noir, or Tortue de Fer,_ " the woman with the microphone was saying, the recording somewhat shaky as the cameraman situated himself. " _Volpina has been spotted at the top of_ _Tour Montparnasse_ _, which, as we can see, is being evacuated at this very moment._ " The camera zoomed in behind her, where people were filing out the building's doors at a pace that was far too fast to be safe. " _And if our copter cameras can verify, it's safe to say she still has the child with her._ "

"Child?!" Mari said, breath coming up short.

In the same moment, the camera changed, going from the ground to a bird's eye view. The beating of a helicopter's propeller blades echoed in the background, subdued as the same reporter's voice from before spoke over the footage.

" _Yes, it's safe to assume Volpina still has the child. Oh god, is she dangling them over the side of the building?!_ "

"Shit!" Nino swore, surging to his feet as the cameras tried to zoom in on the scene. Pacing shortly, he whipped back around to the screen.

Behind them, Adrien noted Alya tiptoeing into the house, though she said nothing.

" _We can't, unfortunately, get any closer footage_ ," the reporter went on. Volpina and the child were only just recognizable atop the edge of the skyscraper, Tour Montparnasse. " _Every time one of our helicopters gets closer, some sort of invisible force interferes with our machines. And pilots are complaining of headaches and chills._ "

The screen flashed back to the original reporter. " _Police are advising that all citizens stay as far away from the site as possible._ " Which clearly wasn't happening as the scene was crowded with onlookers pointing up at the building. " _Down here on the ground, we're all asking the same question. Where are Paris' superheroes and what does Vol-_ "

The report was cut short, skipping instead to a shaky camera that, initially, appeared blurry, before it zoomed out. And there, standing before it—people screaming to get away in the background—was Volpina.

" _I have a message,_ " she announced, stepping closer to the camera. The worker behind it gasped, but she reached out, likely holding them in place as the screen was filled with her smirking face. " _I don't want Ladybug or Chat Noir. Not today. There's only one thing I want, per Hawkmoth's request._ " Her smirk stretched into a full-on smile, though it was twisted and cruel. " _I want the Guardian. And I don't mean Tortue de Fer. The original Guardian_.

" _Come to me, hand yourself over, or I drop the child. It's that simple_."

Continuing to smile into the camera for only a second longer, she soon vanished in a plume of orange.

"A fake," Adrien muttered.

"But the one on top of the building might not be," Mari reasoned, shifting to turn and face him.

"The city's not that far," Nino added a second later. "I can get there faster than the two of you."

"Alone?" Adrien asked.

"Just until you guys catch up," Nino reasoned. "We can't wait, not if Volpina's threat is for real."

"It could be a trap," Mari said, though her tone was more of a warning than an attempt to stop him. "If Hawkmoth really is in on this and Volpina's not working alone, there's a good chance Queen Bee will be there too."

"We'll be right behind you," Adrien assured, pulling away from Mari to land a single hand on Nino's shoulder. "Be careful."

"Will do." Turning away, Nino went to head for the door, pausing for only a second when he came across Alya standing behind them. She was silent, lips parted slightly, and for a second it appeared that Nino might say something to her. But in the pressure of the moment, no words were found. Instead, ripping his gaze away, he hunkered past her and out the door.

Which was when Adrien turned his attention on Mari.

"Shall we?" he asked, bowing slightly as he gestured after their teammate.

She nodded, Adrien moving ahead of her to the door. And though he held it open, she didn't follow immediately after. Turning back to watch her, he saw that she'd paused beside Alya, the two girls watching one another. Tension sparked between them, but it wasn't of the antagonistic sort. Rather, there was just so much between them, so much to discuss, and yet no time to do it.

"My Lady," Adrien murmured, loath to break them up, but knowing it was necessary.

Mari's gaze flitted his way immediately, as if he'd startled her. She nodded shortly after, putting her attention back on Alya only long enough to reach out and squeeze her hand. It was an action to which Alya gave no obvious response, her lips clamping closed when Mari pulled back shortly after.

Waiting, Adrien held the door, only letting it go once he was trailing Mari out into the sunlight.

**oOo**

It was a bit of a blur, but Alya supposed that was due to the shock. It was only the steady rumble of her mother's car around her that managed to ease her mind, her phone gripped so tightly in her hand that her palms and fingers were sweaty.

Outside, the day appeared to be a typical one, the sun shining bright as a few clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky. A perfect afternoon for the beach, or so it would have been. Until Alya's whole world had come crashing down around her ears.

How had she ended up there? Oh, right. The lie to her mother.

"Nino had a family emergency," she'd said. "His mom came to pick him up. Adrien and Marinette went with him.

"I think I should be there too…"

Not the most convincing lie, but her mother hadn't questioned it. Her mother, who was always happier to live in her own world of fine hotels and fancy dining than face what was happening outside it. Alya had always thought herself different—told herself she'd wanted to be—but if that was true, how had she completely and totally failed to see that her best friend was a superhero?

That her once-almost-boyfriend was also a superhero?

And that _his_ best friend— _her_ best friend's crush—was the same?

All that time…

Had they really been hiding it that well, or had she just been too stubborn to see it? She didn't know—wasn't sure she'd ever know. Maybe it didn't matter.

The sun was bright, traffic was regular. Her mother listened to MP3s because she didn't want to hear the news or commercials. And Alya sat in the back seat, phone gripped tight but laying uselessly in her lap.

Was she angry? No, she didn't think she was. Mostly just shocked.

 _Should_ she be angry? On some surface level, it seemed reasonable to be. Her best friend had been lying to her practically since they'd met. Her almost-boyfriend had started misleading her—pretending around her. She'd been the oblivious fourth wheel, ignorant and fawning over them while they'd watched.

Yet… she _wasn't_ angry. After all, she was supposed to be the Ladybug expert—she was supposed to know as much as possible about superheroes. And if there was any lesson the fictional heroes she'd always admired had learned, it was that keeping their identities secret came before everything. It kept them safe, as well as the people they loved.

Marinette, Adrien, and Nino… She knew them. Not as superheroes, but as people. They weren't superheroes to her, they were friends—even if they'd had their rocky patches. Yet, even as superheroes, they'd been good to her. They'd given her interviews that no one else ever got, private audiences.

They'd always done what they could to be good friends, despite the deceit.

They'd _protected_ her.

The sunlight glinted on the window, warming her leg as she watched the dust dance about in the glare.

Her mother hummed along to the music.

What were they doing? she wondered.

Glancing down at her hand, she finally opened it to reveal her phone. There were sweat smudges from her fingers, but such was hardly visible once she hit the center button to ignite the screen.

Opening up an internet browser, her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few moments before she ultimately decided on one of the more popular news websites. They'd have coverage. If anyone was on top of the situation, they would be. Their homepage, however—at least on her phone—was difficult to navigate, and so she had some initial frustration finding what she was looking for, despite the fact that it had to be leading news.

**Top Stories:**

_**Financial** _ _– Mayor Bourgeois invests in another hotel in the hopes of bringing more-_

 _**Entertainment** _ _– Jagged Stone to hold a concert in honor of Ladybug and-_

 _**World** _ _– Prince Ali of Kowar still missing after two week search of-_

 _**Opinion** _ _– Are Paris' superheroes in over their heads with these new-_

 _**LOCAL BREAKING NEWS** _ _– Volpina holds child hostage at the top of Tour Montparnasse-_

Alya tapped the link, swallowing hard as her phone loaded the video. It began to play without prompting, flashing to the scene as a shaky looking reporter started to speak.

" _There's still no sign of Ladybug, Chat Noir, or Tortue de Fer,_ " the reporter, a young man, was saying, peering back behind him at Tour Montparnasse, as if expecting tragedy at any moment. Which was reasonable, really. " _Volpina hasn't made any further comment since she explained her terms, leaving no time limit or negotiating possibilities for the distraught parents of six year-_ "

Someone had come onto the screen from the side, appearing almost frantic as they whispered to the reporter. Whatever was said was obviously alarming, as the reporter's eyes went wide before he was turning to look up at the skyscraper, and then fumbling back around to the camera.

" _We've just received word that an unknown man has somehow managed to make it to the top of Tour Montparnasse. Law enforcement has the building surrounded, so we're uncertain how he managed to get through, nor what his intentions are. We're trying to get a live-eye look as we sp-_ "

Abruptly, the report flashed to a view from a helicopter, though they were no closer to the scene than they had been when Alya'd watched the report back at the beach house.

Still, it did allow for a distant view. Holding her phone closer, Alya narrowed her eyes, doing all she could to try and comprehend what was happening. Volpina's uniform was bright, so it was easy to tell where she was on the screen. Or, rather, where both of her were. One Volpina was still at the edge, dangling a small, limp body over the edge. Alya hoped the child was only unconscious. She didn't want to consider anything worse.

The other Volpina was a few meters from the other, though still on the outside edge—where people going to the top of the building typically weren't allowed to go. And—closer to the center platform—was another figure. It was hard to get any concrete details, but he looked somewhat shorter, whatever shirt he was wearing a bright, distinctive red.

Perhaps he was holding a cane.

Neither Volpina nor the man appeared to be taking action toward one another, though they were face to face on either side of the couple-meter distance. Was the man gesturing? Were they talking?

" _No one knows what the man aims to accomplish by confronting Volpina directly, or even how he managed to get as close as he has._ " A reporter's voice was running over the footage. " _Our own teams, as well as law enforcement, have been unable to reach Volpina due to strange, uh, powers that seem to be barring us. Was this man allowed up by Volpina? Why? Is he the one that Hawkmoth wants? Is he this 'Guardian?'_ "

Lips pursing, Alya tried to think back on the previous report. Volpina had said Hawkmoth wanted this "Guardian," but had made a distinction between Tortue de Fer and some other Guardian. Was Nino a kind of "Guardian?" Did her friends know the man confronting Volpina?

The sounds of surprised gasps drew Alya's attention back to the report, her blood running cold, heart skipping, as the Volpina on the edge violently shook the child she was still holding aloft, the other taking a few steps closer to the mysterious man.

Everyone was waiting in bated breath, none of the reporters even managing to speak.

Volpina shook the child again.

The double was close enough to the man to seize his arm.

The child dropped.

Alya felt her stomach plunge at the sight, hands tensing around her phone as everyone in the background of the broadcast screamed. Panic was overtaking the cameras, which were snapping from one to another to another, as if the terrible sight was somehow going to be best captured from one particular angle. But the news channel knew just as well as anyone that no such scene existed, and so were frantic in not knowing what to do.

The small body plummeted—Alya cupped her hand over her lips. The screaming coming from her phone speakers only grew louder.

All of it in only a matter of seconds.

And then he was there.

The green flash came out of nowhere, the crowd gasping anew as he burst across the frame. Arms outstretched, he caught the unconscious child while they were still over halfway up the building in their fall. Yet, the catch still knocked him off balance, Tortue de Fer swiveling some atop his shield as he cradled the child carefully against his armor. He regained his balance quickly, however, before dropping through the air to where the authorities rushed forward.

Once on the ground, he handed the child off. Reporters were rushing in, the cameras bobbing, but police held people back from the building. It made it difficult to really tell what was happening, Alya gripping her shirt and twisting it in her fist as she waited.

The camera snapped up a second later, catching sight of Tortue de Fer in the air once again. He was headed right up the side of Tour Montparnasse, no hesitation in his flight as he went straight to the source.

A moment later, the camera's connection cut out.

Heart beating fast, Alya tried to reload the live feed, but it was no longer functioning. It wasn't until she tried another website that she realized what had happened.

Tortue de Fer had ordered that the police forcibly evacuate the area. And so all reporters had finally had absolutely no choice but to flee the scene with everyone else. Even the helicopters had retreated, leaving no eyes on the action whatsoever. None that Alya could access from her phone, in any case.

Which meant that she had no way of knowing what was happening to Nino.

Or Marinette and Adrien for that matter. When considering all the danger she'd run headlong into herself, she'd never felt more anxious or tense. But perhaps that was the luxury of having the choice. She'd couldn't stop her friends from diving into danger, instead left to do nothing but worry and wait.

Trapped in a car that she wished would move faster and beneath the summer sunlight that seemed far harsher in those moments than it ever had before.

She was hot, she was stifled, and there was nothing she could do.

**oOo**

Completing the leap without a second thought, Ladybug landed on the building's edge with perfect accuracy, before bending back up into a sprint. Arms pumping, legs straining, she put as much length into her strides as she could, all the while keeping her attention trained on the skyscraper surging up before them. She didn't have the luxury of focusing on anything else. Anything trivial, anyway. Perhaps, on a personal level, the fact that her uniform had changed was important—that she now had gloves that reached up to her elbows, the edges crowned in the same type of fur that ran along Chat's collar—but it the scheme of their current situation, it was hardly relevant.

 _That's Fer_. Chat's thoughts flitted through her own, his own muscled form bounding ahead of her. His tail whipped out behind, lithe body pouncing off the edge before them. He soared through the air, Ladybug following suit as she peered up at their destination. She could see Fer just as well as Chat could, his glowing shield—shattered out in the shape of a surfboard—carrying him straight up the side.

Directly to the source—to Volpina. If they could all get there, then-

A blow knocked the thought right out of her.

The Paris skyline blurred, Ladybug spinning. It didn't take much to recover, of course, and though she'd gasped in surprise, she was twisting back onto her feet a second later.

"Ladybug!" Chat's voice rang out as she snapped her head up.

Just in time to see that silver needle jutting toward her.

Still moving off the momentum Queen Bee had knocked into her, Ladybug back-flipped out of the way, legs spread wide as she landed and grabbed her yoyo off her hip. Queen Bee's hilt-less rapier hung where she'd previously been standing, those flat eyes clouded in white as they met her own.

Queen Bee was already under Hawkmoth's direct influence.

Bolting from the side, Chat was armed with one of his staves as he dashed toward them. Scowling, he had it raised in attack, but before he could make use of the weapon, a giant shadow rose up before him.

Skidding to a halt, he gaped, the thing growing only taller and taller by the second.

It had the haunting silhouette of a disfigured human, but no features. It was nothing but a deep, dark mold, one that formed from the very shadow Tour Montparnasse cast down upon them.

The only thing on it that glittered was a tiny gold pin, which was situated on its breast.

 _An akuma_! Ladybug and Chat Noir realized at the same time.

Ladybug didn't have time to focus on it however, despite how it rose meters and meters into the air—a great, looming monster. In the seconds that it'd grown, Queen Bee was on her.

That sliver blade was coming down fast, Ladybug extending her glowing staff. The pink glare was barely held up in time to block the sharpened edge slicing toward her, the force of her parry causing her knees to strain as Queen Bee put all her strength behind the blow.

Shoulders tense, Ladybug pushed back against her, shoving her off before she managed to back up a few steps. Queen Bee—wings fluttering—settled across from her, calm and deadly as she held her sword, one foot cocked in preparation to strike again.

But things were different this time. Or so Ladybug told herself. This time, she'd had training. This time, she wasn't fighting by the skin of her teeth. The training they'd all gone through—it had to count for something. Even if Queen Bee had access to knowledge she didn't, she still had to stand a better chance.

Legs wide, she held her weighted staff with both hands, gaze intent as she kept herself steady.

Queen Bee could sense intention—could predict her moves before she made them. Which meant this wasn't going to be a battle based on tactical strategy. Rather, it had to be no different than the spars she had with Nino and Adrien. One motion right after another, moving habitually instead of overthinking everything she did.

Clear her mind, like Master Fu said, and let the fight come to her.

Queen Bee didn't keep her distance for very long. Surging forward, she went for a direct hit, her blade piercing forward. Raising her staff, Ladybug easily parried the blow, sending the blade askew before swiping her staff up to the side. Aiming the weighted end at Queen Bee's head, she forced her opponent to raise her blade defensively.

Yet, even as their weapons collided, Queen Bee was moving. Skimming her blade down the length of the glowing staff, she aimed to slice through Ladybug's hold. But Ladybug was already bouncing back with the force of the previous block, taking a step back and to the side just as the blade looked to skim her knuckles.

The distance gave Queen Bee move to maneuver. Swinging through her previous slice, she spun on her toe. Coming all the way around, she swung down at Ladybug, who held up her staff to once again block the blow.

She spun again—twice, three, four times. A flurry of razor-sharp twirls that had Ladybug backing on her heels as she gritted her teeth, staff raised to deflect each blow.

She didn't stumble, but inevitably felt such coming. Shifting her balance from her arms to her feet, she let the force of the fifth hit push her back. She then grabbed her staff by one end so the weight of it, as well, would carry her.

Bending back, she strained her core muscles, feet still firmly planted as her whole body—bent at the knees—went horizontal. The far end of her staff collided with the rooftop, the weight providing her an anchor point. Giving in to the fall, she let her back fold in, legs pulling into a curl. Before, with a great surge that sent all her muscles stretching, she kicked out and up into the air. Arcing up, her whole body pulled upward, arms yanking her staff up behind her.

Queen Bee was in the middle of her sixth twirl, blade coming around fast, but Ladybug was coming down faster. Pulling her staff up and above her head like a giant sledge hammer, she let the weight carry the force, feet landing firmly on the rooftop as she swung her staff over her head and down.

It missed Queen Bee by but a hair, the weighted end slamming hard against the flat concrete of the roof. It left a shattered hole, little bits of stone pinging in all directions.

Queen Bee had spun to the side, moved just as she'd seen the staff coming. She was on the defensive, Ladybug taking the opportunity while she could. Latching on to the first habit her hands grappled for, she forwent any thought and simple acted. Yanking her staff from the dent she'd created in the roof, she spun similarly to how Queen Bee had previously, the entire length of her staff outstretched as she gained speed and force before swinging out against her foe.

Queen Bee had more than enough time to move and so easily jumped up out of the way, wings fluttering as she bolted into the air. A second later, she was arrowing back down, blade outstretched as she aimed straight for Ladybug. The blow was obvious, however, Ladybug easily blocking before Queen Bee rebounded back.

Taking advantage of the limited time, Ladybug grabbed her other yoyo off her hip before casting it out, narrowly evading Queen Bee's second aerial strike. She heard the way that silver blade impaled upon the rooftop behind her, Ladybug surging up and away. Her yoyo had hooked to the side of a taller building next door, hefting her swiftly.

Rocketing up, she planted her feet firmly on the glass window below where she'd wrapped her yoyo. She then unwound her weapon before shoving herself off the side. Bulleting back down the way she'd come, she pulled her staff back, preparing to swing it, as Queen Bee flew up toward her.

That sword was raised, blade ready for collision.

Ladybug let it happen, their weapons scraping together as they crashed midair. And while Queen Bee was still angled upward, Ladybug had no wings and so kept dropping. Rolling to the side, she fell, staff sliding off that silver blade as she cast out her yoyo.

The invisible string wrapped around Queen Bee's ankle, holding tight. And as Ladybug plummeted, she dragged Queen Bee with her.

The fall wasn't far, Ladybug front-flipping into a roll to ease the landing, while, at the same time, collapsing her staff and strapping it to her hips. Her yoyo string wrapped around her arm due to the roll, giving her even more leverage when she was springing to her feet. Taking hold of the string with both hands, she yanked it around as Queen Bee struggled to free herself. With a great heave, Ladybug tossed her to the side, yoyo releasing as Queen Bee—victim to her strength—went plunging over the side of the building.

With her yoyo back in hand, Ladybug swiftly snapped her attention around, one name running through her head.

_Chat!_

He was lashing out on the other side of the roof, shadow creatures—varying in sizes and shapes—crowding in on him. His claws slashed through them, his destructive power melting the monsters where they stood. Yet, as if made of shadow itself, as soon as one was swept away, another crept forth from the shaded silhouettes of nearby buildings, of outcroppings and air-conditioning units. Anywhere the darkness existed.

And as if made up of a hive mind—of one single entity—the golden pin sank and reemerged from creature to creature, disappearing in and out of the ashy shapes. Constantly moving, constantly elusive.

Scowling, Ladybug cast out her yoyo, aim holding true as the string wrapped tightly around Chat's middle. He knew it was her, knew what she was going to do. No words were necessary. And so, with a single yank, she jerked him from the fray, his claws outstretched and scraping at any disfigured monsters daring to get in the way or creep too close.

He landed deftly beside her, the akuma—every darkened head—turning toward them immediately, before slowly beginning to slink forward.

"The akuma has to in be the pi-"

Ladybug's words were cut off by the fingers wrapping around her throat.

Body snapping, she was thrust back, the world rushing by before she was slammed harshly into the glass of the building standing adjacent to the rooftop they'd been fighting atop. The windows shattered behind her, glass scattering and showering down upon them both as Ladybug flicked her attention up to those cloudy, white eyes.

Queen Bee's hold tightened around her throat, causing her to gasp as she reached up and tried to pry that hand from her person.

Free arm rising as well, Queen Bee angled it so that the thin silver blade hidden in the golden hair running along her underarm was pointed up at Ladybug's chest, only the point of the sword slipping forth. Until it was just barely poking at the red suit situation between Ladybug's breasts.

They were in such close quarters, the blade ready to strike, that Ladybug knew she didn't have time to gather any sort of defense. For any action she could take in grabbing her yoyos, that blade could be through her three times more.

She held tight to Queen Bee's arm, those fingers yet tightening around her throat.

"Don't do this," she coughed out, her heels scraping to get some kind of leverage against the building as Queen Bee held them aloft. "Fight him. D-Don't let him… control you."

Queen Bee leaned closer, a scowl dragging itself across her lips. " _I_ _ **am**_ _in control_ ," she hissed. " _I bend to the will of no man._ "

Eyes widening, Ladybug grit her teeth, trying as best she could to breathe despite how little air was making its way to her lungs. Her legs continued to flounder beneath her, Queen Bee leaning in so close that tiny specs of blue could be seen sparking behind the white. Her breath was hot, splashing against Ladybug's bare skin, and the tip of her blade pressed a little harder.

Until the red fabric—invincible against anything but the strength of another miraculous—snagged, beginning to tear as Queen Bee slowly traced her blade up the middle of Ladybug's chest. She drew blood, breaking the surface skin in a thin line from below Ladybug's breasts up to the center of her collarbone. Though stinging pain echoed up through her, Ladybug felt herself growing lightheaded, breath puffing desperately.

"W-Why then?" she coughed out. "Why are you…?"

" _My anger makes me strong,_ " she murmured, leaning in so close that her nose brushed Ladybug's cheek, her lips skimming the skin as she spoke. " _And you betrayed me, Ladybug._ " That blade, still only barely jutting out from its hidden sheath, rose higher, the cool metal chilling Ladybug's other cheek as a light scratch was inflicted beside her ear. " _Hawkmoth wants your miraculous? That's fine. So long as I get what I want._ "

"What you want?" Ladybug gasped out, aware of the way Chat's thoughts were screeching in the back of her head. But she couldn't hear him, not with the way her consciousness was fuzzing in and out. Even as he screamed, as though trying to claw his way to her, all she could hear was a ringing. And that rasping, unforgiving voice in her ear.

" _You won't give me what I want. And so,_ " the blade etched a continuous mark from her cheek down her neck, " _I'll_ _ **destroy**_ _you_ _instead_."

 _Mari!_ Chat's voice screamed in her head.

She needed to do something, anything, but the world was fading.

Shadows were crowding in…

The ledge of the building beside them directly abutted the one against which Queen Bee held Ladybug, only a few stories below—not a far fall.

The breath rushed into Ladybug so suddenly that it nearly sent her eyes rolling, the afternoon abruptly bright as the air whisked up past her.

She could barely see it, the way Chat was scraping at Queen Bee's wings, dragging her forcefully down as he growled and spat. Tumbling together, they hit the roof below a moment before Ladybug did.

With a harsh thud, she slammed into the stone, body rolling as her suit absorbed most of the fall. Blinking and laid out on her side, she started to push herself up on her elbows immediately, knowing full well that it didn't matter how cloudy her thoughts or vision were, she couldn't afford to be out of commission for even a few seconds.

That was all it took for her miraculous to be stolen.

Forcing awareness back into her person, she gasped harshly for air as she peered quickly around the rooftop. The shadowy akuma, it was slinking up behind Chat. He had his nunchakus drawn, swinging them in tandem against Queen Bee's blade, forcing her back with his close-quarters advantage.

The akuma, though. It was getting closer. She tried to warn him, but her thoughts were so muddled that she couldn't get anything across. Like the lines were jammed.

She opened her mouth, staggering to her feet in the same moment, but her voice hadn't yet recovered.

She reached for her yoyos with quivering hands.

A flash of orange hurtled down from above, crashing through the roof a second later. It caused the whole roof to shake, Ladybug finally getting her bearings back enough to flit her attention up from where it'd come from.

Within the moment, Tortue de Fer was soaring down upon his shield, yanking it up just before he landed between Chat and the akuma. With a great green flash, the crystal shards that made up the outer edge of his shield burst further apart, blasting the shadow monsters forcibly back.

"You need to be more fucking careful, Chat!" Fer shouted, whipping around to face off against Queen Bee as well. "You can't afford to be-"

"Fer!" Ladybug screamed, casting out her yoyo at the orange plume that had come surging from the hole in the roof. But her weapon went right through, the cloud zipping up behind Fer before manifesting into Volpina.

Her flute was at her lips, playing even as she formed from the haze. The end glowed; Ladybug pulled her yoyo back; Fer turned. Yet, as he did, Volpina twirled her flute until the end was up, before lightly tapping the glowing sphere that had formed against Fer's exposed forehead.

His armor protected him from near everything.

Everything, that was, but direct skin contact.

Bounding back into an orange blur, Volpina dropped down to the roof again once she was safely on the other side, beside the huddled shapes of the cowering akuma.

Fer crumpled to his knees.

"Ha!" Volpina was smiling, though her body was hunched and worn. Her arms hung loosely, knees bent as her flute dragged against the rooftop. As though she'd taken quite a beating. "Not so immune now, are you?" She staggered to the side, laughing manically. Uncontrollably. The sound echoed between the rooftops, haunting them as Ladybug rushed to Fer's side.

Chat and Queen Bee had broken apart, Bee bolting up into the air and landing over by her comrades while Chat scowled after her, still ready for battle.

"Fer!" Ladybug called again, bending down beside him. She laid a hand on his large shoulder pauldron, hoping to steady him. "Fer, are you alright?"

"Leave him!" Chat spat, having armed himself with his staff as he spun to face their enemies.

"What?!" Ladybug squawked, snapping her gaze up to him. He stood in front of his teammates, not even sparing a single look their way.

"We don't have time for him to get his act together," Chat stated bluntly. "I'm not going to be his crutch."

"Chat!"

"I knew I never should have picked him for the miraculous," Chat muttered, sounding beyond exasperated with the whole situation. "He's been nothing but a burden."

Which was absolutely not true. Fer had more than pulled his weight. He'd put himself through hell, trying to catch up to them. Learning, staying hours after with Master Fu to study. Spending weekends away. Ladybug couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Chat's mouth, the cruelty lacing each syllable.

But she didn't have the time to fully comprehend, or even wonder, because, in the next moment, the door on the far side of the roof was bursting open, a single figure sprinting out.

"Alya…" Ladybug murmured, watching as her best friend ran a few meters, before coming to a huffing halt. She was wide-eyed and shaky, hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Get up!" she shrieked, her desperate tone causing Ladybug to start. "Get up right now!"

In front of them, Chat shifted, his attention on the three foes readying their own assault.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to take it!" Alya screamed, Ladybug gaping. She didn't know what to do—whether to get up and fight, whether to get Fer somewhere safe, whether to clear Alya out of danger.

"You're a failure!" Alya shrieked. "You can't handle the pressure or the responsibility. You're worthless! You'll never make anything of yourself!"

Ladybug didn't even know how to respond. Why was Alya saying such things? Why had Chat abandoned his best friend?

What was going on?!

"You'll never amount to anything!" Alya screamed, looking directly at Fer as she spoke. "And I'll _never_ love you!"

"Fer!" Ladybug shouted, shaking him. She had to ignore whatever else was happening. It seemed real, but it wasn't right. She knew in her gut that it wasn't. "Fer, answer me!"

He appeared awake, but paralyzed. He stared at the rooftop, eyes wide, sweat beading across his forehead. He didn't flinch at her harsh treatment—almost as though he didn't register she was there.

Queen Bee and Volpina were dashing forward, the wave of shadow-monsters trailing at their heels.

Chat couldn't take them alone.

But something was horribly wrong!

 _Mari!_ Chat screamed in her head.

_What do I do?_

She couldn't say where they'd come from—not what direction or even how. But like a blue banner, that cloak cut between Chat and their aggressors. A gust of wind, they blew through, pulling Volpina and Queen Bee up short as the akuma shied away.

They swished through the clearing, fabric fluttering. Alya disappeared into a plume of orange smoke; Fer jolted up, gasping. The whiteness in Volpina and Queen Bee's eyes streamed away.

Chat was beside her, his hand on her back. When had he gotten there?

" _You!_ " Volpina roared, pointing her flute at the cloaked figure, who'd come to a flapping halt a second later. "What have you done?!"

Queen Bee wasn't waiting for a response. Backing up a step, she soon took off, flying straight up the side of Tour Montparnasse. The akuma had gone before her, stretching up the side of the building like a leaking infection.

The figure in blue spread their arms wide, perfectly balanced as they curled their wrist and gestured in Volpina's direction.

Growling in outrage, she took a step back as well, before surging into a plume of smoke and trailing her companions up the side of the skyscraper.

"What happened?!" Ladybug blurted, unable to hide her confusion as Fer got shakily to his feet.

"Illusion," Fer explained, coughing. "The power to make our worst fears reality." He shook his head, as though tossing aside a tiresome thought. "That's what she said, anyway."

 _So you really didn't say those things?_ Ladybug thought toward Chat.

_Me? You weren't exactly being nice yourself!_

Hadn't she been? Had the illusion made them all see different things? Different versions of Fer's worst fears?

"But it doesn't matter," Fer added, pulling up his shield. "They've got Master Fu up there."

"What?!" Both Chat and Ladybug exclaimed at the same time. Fer was already stepping up onto his shield, all of them kicking themselves into high gear as Ladybug pulled up her yoyo and Chat started extending his staff.

Arm straining, Ladybug tossed her weapon as far as she could, springing up with Chat as Fer rushed by them.

The figure in blue was with them as well, matching Fer for pace as it blurred its way up. Like a wave of fabric, it arced first one way, then another, as though gliding—twisting and twirling and seeming to both leap and fly in the same motion.

They beat both Ladybug and Chat to the top, who couldn't move nearly as fast. But the duo was vaulting lastly up over the edge only seconds later, armed and ready.

Fer was rushing forward, shield held out before him while Volpina sprinted at him in turn, flute swinging. Queen Bee was far, far above, diving down with her blade in hand.

The akuma was seeping across the rooftop, bubbling up and splashing as a wave of disfigured shadows.

Master Fu was crouched behind it all, hands tied back by some invisible force, mouth gagged.

Coming to a skidding halt, Fer abruptly held his shield up horizontally, swinging it in a harsh half circle that sent the glowing, crystal edges streaking out. A vane of energy spread out before him, Volpina sliding down on her knees so as to avoid it.

The akuma wasn't so lucky.

It sliced through the shadow monsters without remorse, splitting them apart and sending them seeping back into nothing. They'd regroup, but Fer's energy attack did well for large groups of foes where Ladybug and Chat were at a disadvantage.

The pin, left momentarily with nothing to cling to, clattered to the rooftop, Chat taking action almost immediately. Bounding forward, he launched himself across the clearing, eventually springing up onto Fer's shoulders. Before, with a final leap, hurling himself into the fray just as Fer's shield pieced back in on itself.

He soared over Volpina, landing on his hands before rolling forward toward the pin. It was already sinking into the shadows again, but he managed to snag it before it was gone.

Still on the ground, he twisted in place, flinging it across the clearing.

Volpina's flute was clanging against Fer's shield.

And Queen Bee was headed, once more, straight for Ladybug.

Scowling, Ladybug extended her staff in one hand while she clutched her yoyo in the other. She needed to purify the akuma—it was one less foe. But Queen Bee was nearly on her.

Though he lashed out, Chat was being swallowed by the shadows.

The pin flew closer, glinting within the late afternoon sun.

Swooping in, the blue figure glided over Ladybug's head, just as Queen Bee was getting close. Intercepting the collision, the cloaked figure audibly parried Queen Bee's blade, before the both of them went tumbling back behind.

Quickly collapsing her staff, Ladybug caught the pin, chucking it at the ground a second later before smashing it with her heel. The butterfly flapped out a second later, no time wasted before it was safely purified inside her yoyo.

Turning, she released it, putting her attention on the conflict behind her.

Both Queen Bee and the cloaked figure were on their feet, Bee's blade held out defensively as a flurry of rapid hits came barreling her way. Sleeves flapping, two thin metal rods were held in the cloaked figure's gloved hands. They lashed and cut without mercy, Queen Bee scowling as she stumbled back. Any hit she managed to slip in was parried with ease, until—after only seconds—her blade was caught between the rods.

She struggled momentarily, pulling back as though to slide her sword from the trap. And perhaps she might have succeeded—metal on metal—were it not that before she could, the rods burst open.

Two beautiful fans revealed themselves, looking as though they were made of cloth, but somehow glittering with something more. They were framed by metal ends, one cloth side fading up from the base in blues and greens to white while the other—as Ladybug spotted in just the half-second after they'd been opened—was a deep pink near the center that graduated to the same white.

If there were any smaller details, the weapons were moving too swiftly for Ladybug to tell. The fans trapped the sword more securely, Queen Bee's yanking arm held prisoner, before, in one deft movement, the figure was twisting the blade out of her grasp.

Perhaps, if the move had been done more slowly, the sword would have simply—if not violently—been yanked from Queen Bee's grasp. But it happened so fast that she wouldn't have had time to let go, even if she tried.

As though the weight were nothing, the figure twisted Bee along with the blade, tossing her to the side as the sword was reefed from her hands. Spinning rapidly through the air, Queen Bee was landing harshly on her back a second later.

One fan tossed into the air, that cloak twirled, a gloved hand catching the weapon midair. Sliding to a balanced halt, the figure held two fans in one hand while the other grasped the hilt-less sword, the weapon slanting down above their head.

Ready to strike.

Ladybug could read the posture—see the way the figure was leaning forward. Grabbing her yoyo, she spun it, watching as that blue fabric flapped, blade rushing forth.

Queen Bee hadn't recovered—it'd been but seconds—and was defenseless as her own weapon surged straight for her.

Tossing her yoyo, Ladybug steadied her stance, legs spread wide as it latched faithfully around her target.

The blade was pointed directly between Queen Bee's eyes.

It was the invincible string of Ladybug's yoyo that stopped it, strapped around the cloaked figure's wrist and held taut, putting a stop to their advances.

For a moment, all three of them stood stock still, none moving. Yoyo held tight, the blue figure stood frozen while Queen Bee breathed hard atop the rooftop.

Ladybug swallowed hard. "I don't know who you are or what you hope to accomplish, but that girl is an akuma victim. I won't let you kill her."

Though she couldn't see their face behind the shadowed hood, Ladybug knew the mystery miraculous wielder was staring at her. Perhaps they were considering her words, perhaps they were cursing her. Perhaps they were evaluating her own torn uniform, as well as the cuts, that the very blade she was stopping had inflicted.

It didn't matter—she wouldn't let go until they gave in.

It didn't take long. Without any further convincing, the blade was dropped, clattering at Queen Bee's feet.

Retracting her yoyo, Ladybug armed herself with her staff in the same moment, the blue figure sweeping away. But they were turning back on Queen Bee a second later, fans dancing.

Balanced on her toes, Ladybug prepared herself to lunge forward. She had her eyes on that comb.

But perhaps she'd made her intentions too clear. Queen Bee wasn't so shocked that she couldn't act. Sweeping her blade up into her hand, she surged into air as both Ladybug and the cloaked figure rushed in on her.

They were too high for Ladybug to go after her—there was nothing for her to strap her yoyo to. But perhaps it didn't matter. Queen Bee didn't come back. She disappeared into the clouds, Ladybug finding her attention drawn to the other conflict within the moment.

Fer and Chat had Volpina trapped between them, one with his shield while the other sliced his nunchakus forward with deadly ferocity.

They collided with her at the same time, perhaps intending to trap her before wrestling for the miraculous. They were so close—Volpina was the only one left.

Lunging forward, Ladybug brought her staff up to help, heart surging with hope that, perhaps, they'd get lucky. They'd get her.

But as Chat and Fer made contact, that sadistic grin pulled at the corner of Volpina's lips before, with an orange puff of smoke, she disappeared. The two boys crashed into one another instead, the sight perhaps comical were it not for the seriousness of their situation.

"Mother fuck!" Fer shouted, catching his balance along with Chat. They all glanced around quickly, but Volpina didn't come back.

Breathing hard and still hyped from battle, Ladybug instead put her attention on where it could do some good. There was a single man cowering off to the side—the akuma victim—and Master Fu, who remained crouched on his knees some ten meters away. He was still held hostage by some sort of invisible force.

A trick of Volpina's perhaps? Or…

The realization came to Ladybug, but it came too late.

When she was able…

…Volpina came as a pair.

Hand outstretched, Ladybug was already extending her yoyo.

" _NO!_ " she screamed, not knowing _what_ she aimed to do, but knowing she had to do _something_.

Volpina had already materialized behind Master Fu, her hold on his wrists dropping as she stood up from her crouch. Her gaze was cold, clouded, as she took his head between her hands.

Chat was chucking his staves.

Fer threw his shield.

Ladybug's yoyo soared closer.

She could see it, every detail. How Volpina's fingers tightened atop his skull, sifting through the silver hair. How Master Fu took a single deep, calm breath. How he watched them, before slowly closing his eyes.

Ladybug's heartbeat surged up through her throat, pounding loudly in her ears.

But it wasn't loud enough.

That sickening crack would echo in her dreams her entire life.

Their weapons hit empty air, only traces of orange remaining to receive them—traces that were swept away by the late afternoon breeze within moments.

Surging forward, Tortue de Fer was there first, on his knees and catching the toppling body before it could hit the rooftop. Ladybug wasn't far behind, her yoyo dragging beside her as she came to a slow halt. Chat stood back, hand still outstretched, his thoughts halted and eyes wide with shock.

Ladybug, too, was shelled in disbelief, her legs shaking as she dropped down beside Fer. Reaching out, she set her trembling hands on Master Fu's small frame, pointlessly checking for a pulse, for breathing.

"No," she murmured, her insides choking up inside her. " _No…_ " But her pleas fell on deaf ears—she could do nothing more than wrap her quivering hands into fists around his shirt, tears streaking unchecked down her cheeks.

Fer shook beside her, gasping out a quiet sob as he cradled the small body against his own. He held him tight, his own tears dripping from his chin and landing in the wind-blown smoothness of Master Fu's thin hair.

Chat fell to his knees beside her, reaching out the same way she had—as if to check that it'd actually happened. But the body didn't vanish in a plume of smoke. It was real, still warm, yet motionless.

Empty.

Only the whisper of silence remained.


	19. Part Two - Questions Without Answers

_Approximately One Week Prior_

 

Flopping down in the chair, Nino took a deep breath, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. He'd dropped his and Master Fu's bags to the floor beside the wicker chair, not a single care for the sloppy behavior.

They'd been hiking half the day—no exaggeration. They'd left at three in the morning, reached the mountain trail by six, and been climbing ever since. It was near one in the afternoon by that point, though it felt later. Likely because they were so deeply tucked away in the woods that sunlight hardly filtered through the trees, let alone the windows of the cabin.

Sinking further in the chair, Nino watched as Master Fu slowly made his way around the room, lighting lanterns. The dim glow revealed the empty shadows of the cabin. Hardly any furniture—just the two wicker chairs and the small table between them. The floor was hardwood, a few matts folded up against the wall. There were no other attached rooms, no working water, no electricity. There was a small fireplace, but it was boarded up.

Nino knew this wasn't supposed to be a luxury trip, and that he and Master Fu would be spending most of their time outside, but the one-room cabin was looking even bleaker than he'd imagined.

Not that he was complaining. There were plenty of things he could complain about, but the extras of being a superhero didn't fall into that category.

It was an honor, being Tortue de Fer. He knew that. Certainly it was a threat to his life, was challenging, but it _meant_ something. He was being given an opportunity to do good. To accomplish things no one else could. Which, more often than not, left him insecure. But that was all the more reason to work harder—to show he was worthy. Or try to, anyway.

"You're letting your thoughts get the better of you," Master Fu said from across the room, causing Nino to jolt upright.

"S-Sorry," he sputtered, springing immediately to his feet. "Do you need help?"

"I may be old, but I think I can light a few lanterns."

"Right… Sorry."

"Do not apologize for things undeserving of such consideration."

Which left Nino not knowing what to say.

Humming, Master Fu finished with the final lantern before turning his thoughtfully masked expression on his student. It was a look Nino was more than used to at that point, what with spending hours alone with the man after training with Marinette and Adrien. Yet, despite this, he could never read anything off his features.

He was used to it, but it wasn't exactly comforting.

"Come," Master Fu said then, gesturing to the door. Stumbling after, Nino followed him out onto the old wooden deck that lined the front of the cabin. Beyond, a few raindrops still dripped from the trees, spattering about on the leaves and dotting the groundcover. The smell of mossy dampness permeated the air, a few birds chirping nearby.

It was generally quiet, however. So very different than the city. Which made Nino's thoughts seem all the louder as they cluttered up his head.

"You are tense," Master Fu observed. "Here, we'll meditate." He sat down atop the old deck, removing his shoes before crossing his legs beneath him. Nino did the same, forcing himself to take deep breaths as Wayzz flitted up into his hair. The weight of the kwami had long since become a comfort, as well as a calming sensation when he knew he was supposed to clear his mind.

He and Master Fu meditated almost every day. Once Adrien and Marinette left, that was the first thing they did. Nino liked to think he'd gotten pretty good at it. He did it before he went to bed as well, Master Fu's words encouraging him to do all he could to improve himself. A calm mind was the best battle mind, he'd said. If Nino could master his thoughts, he'd master his actions.

Yet, despite his practice, he was finding if very difficult to center himself. Maybe it was the new place, the new smells. Or the fact that he'd been victim to his own thoughts the whole hike up. Master Fu wasn't exactly good for casual conversation, after all, and it wasn't as though he was coming off a spar with Adrien or Marinette. He'd had all day to let his mind wander, which was, perhaps, a weakness of his own. Maybe he should have been meditating the whole way up the mountain.

"You're anxious," Master Fu said, his eyes closed as Nino cracked one open to look at him. "Your posture is tense."

Nino almost apologized, but then thought better of it. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to resettle himself. Minutes passed, but he knew he was failing. And he knew his teacher could tell.

"You're far more restless than usual," Master Fu eventually said, Nino hanging his head in defeat. "Does this trip have you anxious?"

Nino knew better than to lie to the older man. He'd never get away with it.

"I guess… a little…" he admitted, holding out his hands as Wayzz drifted down to settle atop them. The kwami blinked up at him, patient and calm, and Nino grinned just a bit. It was easier, somehow, to talk about his problems when those who were listening weren't immediately swayed by concern. Nino wasn't the type to want others to worry about him. Wayzz was always willing to just listen.

"Perhaps discussing these anxieties will help you in calming your mind," Master Fu decided. "What is bothering you, Nino?"

He'd seen the question coming. Part of him wanted to deny that anything was wrong, to sweep it under the rug and pretend like everything was perfect. Like his parents did. It was the only way they could convince themselves that everything was fine—to live in a world of habits and the expected. But Master Fu wouldn't tolerate dishonesty, especially when it did more harm than good.

"I guess… I dunno, this whole thing, maybe," he admitted, scratching his nail lightly over Wayzz's shell, which he tended to appreciate. "Like, being a superhero is really cool and I… I really like it, but…"

Master Fu said nothing, waiting with the utmost patience for Nino to find the words he needed.

"You chose Adrien and Marinette for their miraculouses, right?" he asked. "How did you know they were the right people to have them?"

"It is the guardian's responsibility to know," Master Fu replied simply. "The ladybug and black cat miraculouses are different from the others, both in function and assignment. I had my reasons for choosing them—some my own, some because all the signs were pointing me toward them. You will learn to read these signs as well—learn to read fate."

"Fate?"

Master Fu hummed, nodding once. "There are many things to be interpreted from the energies of everything around us. The world is a map and it is our job to interpret that. We act on it sometimes, but we are knowledge keepers, guardians, above all else. You will learn much this weekend—things you can tell no one; secrets you must carry with you to your death. That is the burden a guardian must carry."

"You've said before that some of the things we talk about I can't tell Adrien or Marinette…"

"Hmm." He nodded again. "Ladybug and Chat Noir walk a different fate line than the rest of us. A path we cannot see or understand. It is something for their comprehension only, and a world none of the rest of us have any business intruding upon unless they allow it. Ladybugs and black cats are always secretive, never revealing all of what they truly are. For all we see of them, there is much more going on beneath the surface—confidences between them none but they will ever know.

"But that is all the more reason why those who surround them must be vigilant in their awareness of everything beyond. Ladybugs and black cats are internal—they gain their strength from one another and are oftentimes blinded to what surrounds them. They are the strongest of all the miraculous holders, but the most vulnerable for being so—the easiest to topple. Together they are invincible, but apart they will crumble and break.

"Throughout history, it has always been that the wielders of the ladybug miraculous and the black cat miraculous were chosen first. And it was through them that, if available, the other miraculouses were elected. The guardian was broken from this tradition, but also inactive in doing so. As long as Wayzz was passed down from parent to child, he has stayed from battle. You are the first guardian to be bestowed the miraculous as is natural in thousands of years."

"Natural?" Nino asked. "But… Adrien just gave it to me."

"Yes, he did. He is the black cat; Marinette is the ladybug. Though it is the guardian's job to find the right fit for them, it is within their rights to bestow all the others."

"Their rights?"

"The miraculouses aren't meant to work against one another, but in tandem. Ladybug and Chat Noir are the centers of that team—they pick who will serve at their sides. It is their right for taking on the burdens of their post. To keep close those they trust—those whom can offer them the most security and protection. It is, in many ways, a crime against nature, what Hawkmoth is doing. Going to war with Ladybug and Chat Noir is a fate no kwami is proud of."

"But… I don't understand," Nino replied, brow scrunching as he stared down at the porch. "Adrien's my best friend, sure, but we haven't even known each other a year. I don't feel like that makes me very deserving of… what, protecting him?"

"That Adrien would bestow upon you a miraculous means that he has the utmost faith in you. Ladybug and Chat Noir know the perils of their situation—they wouldn't make such choices lightly. That Adrien chose you means he feels safe with you—safe enough to give you power that could very well puncture his weaknesses. Emotional security, trust, being able to relate and understand him—there are far more protections to be provided than just the physical. Other miraculous users are oftentimes friends, family members. And if they are not—if they are strangers—then oftentimes they will grow to fill those positions."

"Like fate…"

"In a way. Fate is not as clear cut as many would like it to be—it is less etched in stone and more like a river. Sometimes other streams will join the river, drawn to it by the land as other miraculouses are drawn to Ladybug and Chat Noir. But even those streams sometimes break away, leave again. Yet, ultimately, the water flows toward the same end. The journey can vary and be altered, but the result will, ultimately, be the same."

An explanation that, while seemed to make sense, didn't exactly help Nino in understanding any better.

Master Fu smiled. "What makes you worthy of the miraculous is not what you cannot do, but what you do for others. Physical strength can be learned, combat taught, but trust is earned." Reaching out, he laid a hand on Nino's knee. "Chat Noir, Adrien, feels you are deserving. That he has given you access to that which he and Ladybug have striven so diligently to keep secret says a considerable amount about how worthy you are."

"But what if I mess something up?"

"It is not how we fail but how we succeed that defines us. Failure is but a stepping stone to success. Chat Noir believes in you, Ladybug believes in you, Wayzz believes in you," the kwami smiled up at him, "and I believe in you."

All that was left, then, was for him to believe in himself.

"You're awfully good with words," Nino murmured, meeting Master Fu's gaze as he smiled.

"I've had a long time to ponder over them," he replied simply. "Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss, or have your thoughts calmed enough to properly meditate?"

Nino considered, knowing that if Master Fu wanted him to meditate, he would have simply set out to make it so, not asked him another question. He _wanted_ him to question.

He was the new guardian, or would be. He had to start thinking like one.

"You said that the river always meets the same end," he said suddenly, the words flowing out as they came to him. "Are you saying you know what that end is?"

Master Fu rose a single brow. "All guardians know the beginning and the end."

"Oh…"

"I will share many things with you. Some of which you must keep locked away from all others—for their sake. Those who are meant to know will know, and those who do not will never. It is only your job to hold that knowledge, to use it to view the larger story. A story that has a beginning, yes, and an end.

"You are not the writer, but the editor. You do not choose the story, but your influence—if used with great care—can have a profound consequence."

"You're going to tell me, aren't you?" Nino murmured. "The end. That's why you brought me up here."

"I will tell you more than the end, but yes. And you will learn, and you will harbor these truths. If, that is, you are so willing."

"Willing…"

"Not all truths are the sort we would prefer to know."

Which was why he was the guardian. Not to protect Adrien or Marinette—though that was his duty as a miraculous holder. What he was to guard, truly, was the knowledge too heavy for others to bear.

"I'm ready," Nino decided, straightening. He forced his breathing to be easy, told his heart to slow. "Meditation, right?"

Master Fu nodded. "Meditation. And then I will start at the beginning."

 

_Present Day_

 

Marinette didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling. Maybe she was still in shock. The events of the afternoon were nothing more than a blur. Or perhaps the reality was just making it that much more difficult to look back.

It'd been easier to move, to act, when there'd been something to _do_. Move the body, get away. Be discreet. Don't reveal themselves. Find somewhere safe before they fell apart.

None of the news reporters had been close enough to ascertain the identity of the man, all cleared out before the reality of the situation could have been revealed. The "heroes" had had to get out of there—cover their tracks. To keep what was still theirs secure.

Hide, run, duck away.

"Alya texted me," Marinette eventually said, voice coated in sandpaper. The three of them were sitting on the pillows surrounding Master Fu's table—on the bottom level of the house, shielded by the boarded up windows. The presence of Master Fu's body, which Nino had carried upstairs to his bed, weighed on them all. "I told her where we are."

No response. Not that she'd expected one. Adrien was beside her, staring at the tabletop as their thighs brushed underneath. Nino was perpendicular, sitting on his ankles as he toyed with an empty teacup.

Near the center of the table, beside the teapot, sat Wayzz. He'd said nothing since leaving Nino's bracelet. Instead, facing away from the teenagers, he hunched and pretended like they couldn't see the sparkle of his tears. Tikki did her best to wipe them away, quiet and murmuring, while Plagg sat at his back with closed eyes and something like a purr puttering from his little body.

Marinette took a deep breath, which came out shakily on the exhale. In the same moment, Adrien reached out and set his hand atop hers on the table. They didn't exchange thoughts or even emotions. Their mental walls were up, though Marinette knew it was more so because they were avoiding the feelings than hiding them.

Nino's teacup clattered suddenly. He'd been spinning it and lost control. It rolled hollowly, before he carefully picked it up and set it right again.

The silence was like a blanket, slowly descending to stifle them all. It was a force they didn't know how to fight. So they did everything they could to avoid it.

Clearing his throat, Nino reached out. Near the center of the table was a white envelope, balanced on two small, intricately decorated boxes. Much like the ones Adrien and Marinette had been given upon being bestowed their miraculouses. Nino ignored the boxes, however. Instead, he slid the envelope until it was directly in front of him.

They all knew what was written on the front. It was in Master Fu's script, the labels.

_Adrien, Marinette, and Nino._

So intentional.

Almost like…

They all had to be thinking the same thing, and so before the notion could come fully around, Nino broke the quiet by turning the envelope over and slicing his nail beneath the flap. The noise, though white as it was, kept them from the shadows that continually crept nearer.

Inside was a thin stack of paper, which wasn't so surprising, and Nino looked it over while Adrien and Marinette distracted themselves with the shifting of paper on paper.

With a hard swallow, Nino soon set the documents down on the table, hands shaking as he did.

"It's his will," he eventually choked out, voice scraping in his throat. "He- He knew he wasn't going to come back. Or, at least, that he… might not."

Adrien's hand tightened around Marinette's.

"He left everything to me," Nino continued, tone strained. His hand balled into a fist atop the papers, as if he was putting every ounce of control that he could into the motion. Like tightening a seal. "Everything that… that falls under French law, anyway."

"And what about things that don't?" Adrien asked.

"He left a note, one that we need to burn after we collect everything he listed in it." Pulling the last sheet from the stack, Nino read it over again. "It's mostly about stuff related to the miraculouses. Stuff that isn't going to be on any record anywhere, or listed as assets. Some of it's here, some of it's in storage in other places." He relayed the information robotically. "Financially, everything is set. Any rents or debts are paid or being automatically paid. There's information on a bank account if necessary… Stuff like that."

"And it's all yours," Marinette murmured.

"When I'm old enough," Nino replied, setting the sheet back down on the table. "Except those two boxes," he continued, gesturing weakly. "Those are for the two of you."

Both Adrien and Marinette glanced to the boxes, but didn't dare reach for them. Nino was already leaning forward, gathering the small containers as he looked between them and the will.

"This one's for you," he said, holding out the square package for Adrien. "And this one, then…" The longer one was given to Marinette.

Adrien opened his first. The small box revealed a ring—wide gold band with some intricate detailing, in the middle of which was a dark green stone. An antique jade ring, layered lightly with faded lines of black.

Holding it gingerly, he used his free hand to remove the small sheet of folded paper that had been tucked away with it. Opening the scrap, he silently read the words before voicing them out in the open.

"Worn in the darkest of moments," he said quietly. "To counter the bad luck with a bit of good." Marinette could see from beside him that the note ended there. No further explanation. Yet they all knew that Master Fu wasn't the type to give gifts, not without reason. And so—despite the lack of details—Adrien slipped the ring onto his left middle finger, Marinette knowing full well that he intended to keep it there.

It fit perfectly.

She turned her attention to her own box. Hesitating for but a moment to gather herself, she delicately lifted the lid.

Inside was another piece of jewelry. A necklace. Just a simple gold chain, but from which a jade pedant hung. Small, cylindrically shaped, it matched Adrien's ring. And crawling around it—the same gold as the chain—as a small dragon, seeming to guard the stone about which it wrapped.

Similarly to Adrien, a small sheet of paper resided within. She read it allowed as she opened it.

"For when fate deals its hand," was all it said, even shorter than Adrien's message had been.

Examining it for only a moment longer, she soon pulled the chain up around her neck. Adrien clipped it into place for her, before she allowed the small pendant to slip down beneath her shirt. It hung heavily despite its small size. Important. Something that, like the miraculouses, wasn't to be lost.

They were caught up in the silence then, for a moment that stretched to a length that left them all anxious.

And so Adrien tried his hardest to keep the world going. "What else is there?" he asked.

"Not much," Nino muttered. "Specifics, locations. There's a short note about… about the funeral." He closed his eyes for a moment, before continuing. "It basically says there's no reason to follow any traditions, that we're to do what's easiest or… most convenient."

"Most convenient…" Marinette echoed, the implications of the word running a shiver up and down the room.

"He kept to himself, sure, but he was still part of this community," Adrien reasoned. "Some kind of official funeral should…happen." If only so it was on record. None of the news agencies had been close enough to verify Master Fu's identity during the attack and, based on their need to search, their enemies hadn't known his name. People, they died every day. It wouldn't be so unheard of that an old man who'd lived alone and kept to himself had finally…

"But what about reporting the death?" Marinette asked. "The doctor, they'll… they'll see the…" They'd easily be able to deduce that it wasn't natural causes.

Adrien took a shaky breath. "I'll talk to my father," he decided. "He knows that we're, you know… And with his money, he'll… he'll know what to do."

Marinette couldn't help being concerned at the idea. "Adrien…"

"He already knows, Mari," he murmured. "He'll know… how to deal with this. He won't like it," he cracked a small, broken smile, "but he'll do it."

If there were further objections to be had, they were interrupted by a light rapping on the front door. The sound struck them all still for only a moment, before Marinette was hastily getting to her feet and shuffling over. Undoing the three heavy-duty locks, she slowly pulled the door open.

She knew full well who was waiting on the other side.

What she hadn't anticipated, however, was the gusto with which she'd be greeted.

"Marinette!" Alya surged through the door as soon as it was open, clamping herself around her best friend before she buried her face in the crook of her neck. "Thank god you're okay."

Blinking, Marinette didn't initially know what to do, but the familiar warmth soon overcame her surprise. Allowing her arms to pull up around Alya, she leaned in, taking what little relief she could from the embrace.

It didn't last long. Soon enough, Alya was pulling back, looking Marinette up and down. Which, likely, wasn't the most reassuring sight. She was tired, worn, with blotchy skin from previous tears. There was a shallow cut down her cheek and neck, as well as one that had bled through the front of her shirt.

Gifts from Queen Bee.

"No one knew what happened up there," Alya murmured shortly after, hands resting on Marinette's shoulders. "You guys just… disappeared."

"We… We had to," Marinette replied, looking quickly toward her two teammates. Adrien had turned to watch them while Nino stared at the table. None of the kwami were at all interested in their visitor. "It didn't… Things didn't end well."

Which immediately caused Alya to pale, grip tightening on Mariette's shoulders. "What happened?" she whispered.

It was a question Marinette didn't want to answer. Doing so meant she had to face it, to somehow grapple with the reality that they'd all been trying so hard to push away. Just the thought had her throat dry as paper, all the weight pushing itself up into the back of her head. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold it in, but her shaky breath betrayed her.

Betrayed them _all_ —an inevitable confession.

"Our mentor," Marinette murmured, swallowing hard as she reached up and wiped the heel of her hand beneath her eye. "Volpina, she- We weren't there, weren't fast enough. A-And he- We think he was- was trying to save the child…"

Beside the table, Adrien curled in on himself as a single tear streaked down his cheek. While Nino hunched forward on the table and gripped his hair with both hands. His whole body trembled, trying to break out of a flimsy shell he was trying desperately to hold together.

"Oh god…" Alya whispered, the sound of her confirmation—that Marinette's words really had been uttered—shredding only more of their composure.

Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and tried, _tried_ , to hold it all back, but she just couldn't. Master Fu had been their teacher, their guide, the only map they had in a world that seemed to be getting bigger and bigger all the time. But he'd also been their friend, a trusted comrade, and someone who'd molded them into what they'd become.

What did they do without him? Where did they go next?

Causing them all to jump, Nino slammed his fist down on the table. It wasn't an angry gesture, but, rather, a helpless one. The grief was twisting at his expression—he was trying desperately to keep it together, but to no success. His breath hitched violently; his jaw was tight with gritted teeth.

Lowering her hands, Marinette balled them into fists, aware that Adrien had stood and made his way to her side. He gently laid his hand over her own, somehow managing to remain stable despite the roiling waves inside them. He held her steady, gave her the strength to stay standing despite how Nino's sob tore through to her very core.

Alya went to him.

She cut swiftly across the room before gracefully crouching down. In one swift motion, she wrapped him in her arms. And Nino—as though she'd simply ghosted through his shields—collapsed into her. He gave in, gripping her shirt like a drowning man as he crawled up against her.

He wept.

Marinette felt her own strength waning all the while. Adrien was hardly able to hold her above water, his own grip trembling over her own. It wouldn't be long until they, too, were overcome by their anguish. Until the pain finally broke through the dam they were both desperately trying to hold together, flooding every pore and nerve in their bodies. Yet they held on, grappling vainly at the level balanced between them.

Adrien tugged at her, beckoned her across the room as Nino's distress echoed. She stumbled after, barely able to breathe as they pushed their way through the door at the back. Not the side door that led to the stairs, but an opening on the other side that went into a small shower room.

It was built of old, cracked tile and the small windows near the ceiling were foggy with age. It smelled damp, but familiar, and Adrien reached up to pull at a small chain, which ignited the single lightbulb dangling above their heads.

He'd closed the door behind them, Marinette sinking down on the old wooden bench against the wall.

There was a single showerhead to the right, which dripped every few seconds, and a short stool tucked in the far left corner. Otherwise, the tile was bare. The room had only been used when they'd needed to clean up after training, before leaving if they were headed elsewhere and couldn't go in a state of sweat and filth.

Leaning forward, Marinette, balanced her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. She took forceful, concentrated breaths, fearing that if she didn't tell herself to breathe, she'd fail to do so.

A few moments later, Adrien came up with the stool and sat down in front of her. Gently, he took her wrists and pulled her hands from her face.

Their eyes met, Marinette seeing the tension in his own expression. Yet, somehow, someway, he was still teetering on the edge. Barely holding on, whereas all she had keeping her afloat was her grip on him.

"C'mon," he said dryly, voice rasping. "We should… We should clean up your cuts." He gulped, barely keeping his head above water.

And so she let him find her air.

She wasn't envious of his composure, or what little he had left. She knew better than to find jealousy in a poise that had only been earned through experience.

Reaching down, she pulled her shirt up over her head, ignoring the sting from her fresh cut as she did. Laying the article aside, she brushed her new necklace around to drape down her back while Adrien silently surveyed the damage.

The cut stretched from her collar bone down between her breasts. The blood was already dried, having stained the middle of her bra as well as her shirt, and so she didn't object when Adrien silently slid the straps down her shoulders. She reached around and undid the clip at her back, the undergarment sliding easily down her arms before Adrien put it aside. His attention was soon back on her injury.

It needed to be cleaned. No doubt Master Fu's ointment would have helped, but…

Standing, Adrien yanked his own shirt over his head before going to the showerhead. Turning the knobs, the water came weakly sprinkling out. Enough for him to soak his shirt, which was cleaner than hers at least.

He returned a second later, scooting the stool closer as he balanced one hand on her waist and used the other to gently wipe at the cut.

"I saved her life," Marinette managed to croak out a few seconds later, Adrien pausing to flick his gaze up to her own. "Queen Bee's," she went on, having to close her eyes to gather herself before continuing. "The blue miraculous user, they were… they were gonna kill her, but I stopped them." The cloaked figure that had come and gone, like always, without reason or explanation. "All she's ever tried to do is… is kill me. And I saved her."

"Mari…"

"Volpina, she didn't… _she_ didn't hold back." Her chin shook, lips trembling. "Was I wrong to save her? Should I have… Should I…" New tears leaked down her cheeks. "Did I make the wrong decision?"

They'd lost one of their teammates—killed by cold hands.

And she'd _saved_ one of their enemies.

"I don't…" Adrien lightly shook his head. "I don't know."

If their foes were really willing to go that far, to do anything, then could _they_ afford mercy? And compassion? They weren't defenders of a place well-guarded, nor rulers or lawmakers. They were at _war_. Was there room for luxuries like sympathy on a battlefield? Or had she willingly thrown _their_ lives in the way of more danger?

She'd sworn she'd kill Volpina if she dared hurt Adrien again, but when faced with that option, that _defense_ , she'd chosen different—despite the threat it was to her own life as well as the lives of those she loved.

Did she really have it in her to take another life?

Did she have a choice?

"We fought them, but we lost…" She whispered. "We lost…"

_So much._

What were they without Master Fu to guide them? He'd shaped their whole worlds—started their lives in a direction they themselves could never have pursued on their own. He'd chosen them for reasons they didn't know, sent them to battle against a monster they knew nothing about. And, for a while, it'd been okay. And when that had passed, he'd been there to push them in the right direction again. Even when he'd lacked answers, even when their worlds had been turned upside-down, he'd put them right again with his steady teaching and purpose.

He hadn't only been their teacher, but their directions.

No, not just that.

He'd been their armor—their safety net. They'd never moved from beneath the safe stretch of his wings, always working away in his shadow and scurrying back when conflict had dared leave its mark on them.

"What have we accomplished, Adrien?" Marinette asked, feeling suddenly so tired and… empty. They'd never fought—they'd run. They'd gotten away with the least they could do and fled back home to their safe training and-

And _waiting_.

They purified the akumas, but they'd stopped their patrols. They'd stopped hunting for the source. Yet, even when they had scouted the city, they'd never known what they were looking for—more than happy to be blind.

When Volpina and Queen Bee ran, they didn't go after them. They let them get away.

They swung at the ball when it flew their way, but they'd never followed all the way through.

They didn't know how…

"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," Adrien repeated, tone thick. "I don't… I…"

They were _lost_.

Greif—it was a selfish thing. The dead did not mourn their own fates. Mourning was for those who kept going, and it most certainly was not about those who'd "passed over." It was about the gaps of emptiness they'd left behind—the security they'd ripped out from beneath those who'd known them. That is, the "without" of living without them.

And the fear of adapting to that inevitability.

The emptiness was new to Marinette—she'd never been left behind before. She'd never had to adapt to the "without." And Adrien, who'd been through the laborious process of being abandoned, was in no hurry to repeat the experience. Yet it came collapsing down on them anyway—without cushion or ease.

Cupping her hand over her mouth, Marinette curled in on herself. The same sob that had torn through Nino finally ripped from her own throat, leaving her a gasping, panting mess within moments. Her chest jolted, her legs shook, and her whole body seemed to wring itself around and around until the sheer tightness felt as though it'd tear her in half.

The shirt had dropped from Adrien's hand, smacking to the floor as he'd pushed himself from the stool to the bench beside her. His touch never left her—his hand slid from her waist across her bare back to her shoulder, the other grasping frantically at her wrist. Until he managed to pry her hand from her mouth and twine her fingers clumsily with his own.

He held tight—so tight it hurt—and leaned his forehead in against her temple. His own breathing jumped, lips pulling into a harsh grimace as his teeth ground together. Until it ruptured from him the same way it had her, leaving him winded and drowning, and grappling for her like she was the only certainty he had.

She gave in, coiling against his chest even as he clung urgently to her in any way he could. He held her tight—so tight she felt crushed—but it wasn't enough to dissuade the misery. It swathed them too heavily, leaving them as little more than a vulnerable wound of quaking sobs and continual tears.

It assaulted them until every other sensation was numb—until it monopolized every exposed nerve and stripped them raw.

They rocked together, waiting for it to be over—waiting for the relief that wouldn't come. There was no anesthetic for their own doubt and regret. There was no cure for the fear that crippled them. The terror of things they didn't know—that they'd now have to look for, blind and on their own.

Lost.

Left behind.

And alone.

**oOo**

Funerals weren't for the dead. They were for the living. This was a fact Adrien had realized not because he'd attended a great many, but because he'd been denied the closure they offered.

Unlike the mystery of his mother, Master Fu's funeral was final. Discreet, small—a matching bookend to a newborn's cries. There'd been no obituary—nothing to draw more attention to the event than necessary.

Attendance was low. He, Nino, and Marinette went, of course. Alya as well, at Nino's side. Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng were invited, as they'd known him. And, lastly, Gabriel.

As Adrien had predicted, his father had taken care of all the arrangements. No, he hadn't liked it, and the two had argued shortly over their typical subjects as a result, but the job had been done. So there they were, no ceremony, no music, no officiant. There'd been nothing about specifics, so Gabriel had arranged for cremation and Nino had recommended that they spread the ashes near the cabin in the mountains.

No headstone or markers—nothing to draw scrutiny.

They'd made the hike dressed in their best, thankful the day was relatively breezy. None had struggled, though Sabine, Tom, and Gabriel had lagged occasionally. That Gabriel had been behind the arrangements was kept between the teenagers and him.

Through the winding paths and beneath the canopies of trees, Nino led them to a small meadow that was bordered on one side by a cliff face. The grass was thin, short, and the dirt beneath their dress shoes soft from a light rain the night before. The wind was stronger as they stood outside the trees, the sky beyond a vibrant blue that was streaked with strips of cloud. A sea of treetops stretched below, still rich green in the warmth of summer.

Nino had carried the urn, which was a simple design made up of dark green ceramic. Nothing special, but appropriate. And as he stood alone at the very edge, they all waited solemnly behind. Marinette held Adrien's hand on one side, Alya's on the other. Gabriel was stiff and aloof, arms crossed over his chest as he stood off to the far side. While Sabine was small beneath Tom's arm over her shoulders.

Adrien wondered only fleetingly if they should say something, but Master Fu had never been one for unnecessary words. Though he'd never been abrupt or overly direct, he'd never said more than he needed to. Spouting pretty phrases was something for those there to listen, and none of them had any desire to make a show of something that hurt so horribly. Besides, the things they'd really want to say couldn't be in front of Sabine and Tom.

The least complications—that was what Master Fu had wanted.

Perhaps Nino had been thinking the same thing. With a shaky breath, he carefully pulled the lid from the urn before crouching down to place it carefully in the grass.

Bending back up, he didn't turn to them as he peered out over the mountain-scape, though he didn't release the ashes either.

Pulling from Marinette, Alya walked up behind him until she was close enough to lay a hand gently on his shoulder. While Adrien—aware of the slight tremble that ran up Mari's person—pulled her gently into an embrace. It was as much for his comfort as it was hers, and he felt steadier when she laid her head against his chest.

Watching with arms wrapped tightly around one another, they waited the long seconds while Nino gathered himself. With an audible sigh, he eventually tipped the urn, careful as the wind carried on past him.

The ashes sifted and twirled, lifting effortlessly in the breeze. Watching them drift as the urn slowly emptied only hammered home more severely the definitive reality of the situation. Each heartbeat in Adrien's chest ached, each throb echoing with uncertainty.

The last of the man who'd guided them, reassured them, kept them safely blind, was gone—taken by the wind. It seemed too easy, too simple, that within moments it was over. Nino was cradling the urn to his chest, watching with the rest of them as the last ashy details faded into the landscape.

Gone forever.

It took every fiber of Adrien's control not to give in to his laboring lungs and wet eyes. They'd all cried so much over the last few days that the mere thought of more was exhausting. It was all they'd done—mourn, sleep, wait. Wait for this moment, like it was something worth waiting for. But even before their makeshift funeral, Master Fu had been gone.

The lingering was pointless—they were simply hoping. Hoping that, somehow, they'd get answers despite there being no one left to give them.

The thought of the walk back kept Adrien composed. Trekking all the way down to their cars would be that much harder if they were all struggling to breathe through tears. It was a goal, if only a small one, and gave them focus. Gave them a reason to keep going instead of collapsing in defeat.

They stood on the cliff for some minutes, silent and statically expectant. Until Gabriel—which was no surprise to Adrien—took a huffing breath, straightened his suit jacket, and turned away. His retreat was followed shortly by Sabine and Tom, Adrien motionless until Nino turned, before he and Mari headed back toward the trees. Hands clasped together, they entered the shadows as Nino and Alya followed lastly.

The trek back to the cabin—where they had lunch waiting before the hike all the way back down—was some twenty minutes. The teenagers took it slower, Adrien and Marinette side by side while Nino and Alya lagged. They might have been murmuring to one another, but the distance between the groups grew until it seemed they were alone in the woods.

Which made it all the easier to hear the shifting of fabric nearby.

Whipping around, Adrien's focus darted immediately to the slight movement between the trees. It was far off—layered back—but he'd seen it, heart jolting as he did.

A thin human figure in a long coat. Short, blonde hair. Feminine.

But they disappeared in the same second he saw them, almost quickly enough that he caught himself wondering if he'd seen the woman at all.

"Adrien?" Marinette asked behind him, his breathing quiet as his pulse jolted. He squeezed her hand, pushing the quick memory from his thoughts to hers. The image was vague, caught out of the corner of his eye, but clear enough to put Marinette on alert.

 _Should we go after her?_ she thought, back straightening as her eyes narrowed in the same direction he was looking. Yet, no trace of the woman remained. Not a sound, not a flash of blonde, nothing.

"What's going on?" It was Nino, having come up around the trees with Alya. Both Adrien and Marinette were clearly on alert—cats in an empty room seeing things no one else could.

"There's someone out here with us," Adrien muttered out, which immediately put Nino on high alert as well. The necessary caution they had to take was a good defense against the distress that was trying to filter into Adrien's system. Shock he was scrambling to extinguish behind mental shields, so as not to share his impending panic with Mari.

He'd seen the figure for only half a second, but the graceful fluidity of her movements, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the visible weight of her hair…

He knew it—he swore he did.

"Should we go after them?" Nino repeated Marinette's question, the harshness of his tone snapping Adrien from the belligerent tension in his head.

"I don't know," he replied, grappling for logic. Which was easier with Mari's calculated echoes rubbing against his thoughts. "Why would anyone else be out here?" He'd turned back to Nino.

"I'm not sure. We're pretty far out and there aren't any hiking trails this deep in the woods," he said. They weren't on any trail, after all. "You don't think it's Volpina? If she's still stalking you, then…" Then they could have been followed.

"No, it wasn't her," Mari stated, the memory as clear to her as it was Adrien, even if she hadn't been the one to see it.

"Sneaking around the woods doesn't really fit her M.O. anyway," Alya interjected, all their attention flicking her way. "Her powers might be related to illusion, but she's not very subtle." She crossed her arms over her chest. "If she followed you all the way out here, she would have acted by now."

Which was true. She'd likely have confronted them by that point, if she'd gone to all the effort of following them into the mountains in the first place.

"The woman was blonde," Adrien added.

"There's always Queen Bee, but sneaking around in the woods doesn't really seem like something she'd do either," Nino said.

"It wasn't Queen Bee." Adrien's tone was filled with absolute certainty, though he made no efforts to expand on his thoughts. Yet, Mari mentally agreed with him anyway.

"If she somehow found out who we were and followed us, she wouldn't be sneaking around," Mari explained. "It doesn't make any sense for us to be pursued this way." There were certainly many other ways to get to them if their identities were known. Pursuing them when they were all together would be the worst method to do so.

"It seems a little too coincidental to be a hiker," Alya observed.

Mari shook her head. "It wasn't a hiker—she was wearing a long, formal looking coat." Not something a hiker would don in the heat of the summer.

"If we're going to go after her, we're wasting time," Nino pointed out.

"We won't find her," Adrien decided. "Besides, if she's after us, she'll show up sooner or later. We should head back to the cabin. Our parents are defenseless."

Nino gestured towards the wood. "But if we go after her now, we might still catch her."

"No!" Adrien hadn't meant to be harsh, but it was getting harder and harder to contain his anxiety the longer they stayed on the subject. Taking a deep breath, he tried to appear apologetic. "Sorry. If we leave without saying anything, we'll make the Dupain-Chengs suspicious. They're out here with us and if there's danger, we should put our focus on protecting them."

Which was true. But, to Adrien, it felt an awful lot like a lie. It'd be easy for some of them to search while the others told a fib—someone had wanted to be alone; they'd be back at the cabin later. Yet, despite this logic, Adrien pushed the notion aside.

He didn't want to go after the woman—didn't want to find her. Those were answers to questions he didn't even want to fathom. There was a cage in his mind, a place he kept locked up, where those questions existed. He stayed away from it, knowing no good would come of wondering, of accusing. He'd hurt his father in an argument by indulging in such thoughts. He'd only hurt himself if he continued.

The whole thing was impossible, he knew that. Whoever the woman had been, it wasn't who he'd mistaken her for. There was no point in entertaining otherwise.

But the scared, muffled, fluttering of recognition haunted his insides, urging him to keep away. He was better off not knowing. Better off not ripping open old wounds with misguided hope.

Besides, none of it made sense. What would she be doing out there, of all places and of all times?

No, it was stupid. He refused to accept it.

" _I'm_ going to go look," Nino growled, glaring in response to Adrien's outburst before pushing his way in the direction Mari and Adrien had previously been focused—where the woman had been. Alya sighed lightly before following him, which left Adrien staring at his shoes while Mari remained by his side, concerned.

"Sorry," he apologized again. "I didn't mean…"

"It's alright," she assured, placing her free hand on his arm. "Nino's not angry at you." No, he was angry in the same way they all were. He wanted vengeance—to do something about what had been done to them. To act, even if that meant following the smallest of leads.

"He's right to go looking," Adrien muttered. "But I…"

"Adrien?"

He didn't want to think about it, but Mari's probing concern was making it that much harder to avoid the subject. Like her consciousness was a fishhook he tried desperately to swim away from, but couldn't escape. Until the image was flitting beyond his control—the fleeting sight of blonde hair, the familiar contours between the trees. Shadowed by memories of a woman that became more and more of a ghost every day.

"Oh, Adrien…" The pity in her words was more than enough to break him.

"I know, it's stupid," he started quickly. "It wasn't her and I know that, and I- Something about it triggered- It wasn't her." Whoever it was, _it wasn't her_! "With everything that's been happening, I- I just…" Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he searched desperately for his composure, but found it collapsing faster than he could catch. He'd made it through the morning, through the funeral. Why couldn't he make it just a little further?

"It's okay," Mari consoled softly. "We're all stressed out right now. It's okay."

But her words did little to soothe his swollen nerves. Closing his eyes, he reached up and shadowed his forehead with his hand, teeth grinding as parallel tears dropped down beneath his eyes. His breath trembled between his lips, the salty wetness on his cheeks all too familiar as of late.

"Goddammit…" he muttered, sniffing as he almost violently wiped his face clean.

"It's alright, Adrien," Mari murmured, reaching up and gently caressing his cheeks, slipping her hands up under his own so as to stop his rubbing. "We're all…" She blinked quickly, swallowing hard in the same moment. "We're all messed up right now."

_We're all heartbroken._

Overcome, Adrien pressed his mouth into a tight line before allowing himself a short nod. Anchoring his hands on her waist, he leaned his forehead against her own. They stood like that for a few minutes, eyes closed as they gathered themselves—as they counted their heartbeats together and allowed their thoughts to swim back and forth 'til the waves had settled.

With their self-control teetering precariously in place, they eventually made it back to the cabin. Nino and Alya came shortly after, having found no one in their short search.

Though Tom had gone to the effort of hauling a picnic basket all the way to the cabin, Gabriel didn't stay. He said short farewells as soon as Adrien arrived, before making his way back down on his own. None were overly surprised at his exit, though Adrien did ask that he text when he arrived at the car. If there _was_ someone in the woods stalking them, then he couldn't be too careful.

He needn't have worried—Gabriel eventually arrived safely.

Their lunch after the funeral had been a somber one, as had the days that followed. They made it out of the woods without incident, whoever had been sneaking along with them making no trouble. And as the week wore on, the mysterious woman became but another detail shoved into the pile without answers. More to think on with nothing to do about it.

The more time that passed, the easier it was for Adrien to convince himself that what he'd seen had been false—the similarities made up in his grief-ridden head. And so it faded, more pressing matters taking the forefront.

There was a stale kind of waiting following Master Fu's death. They all took some days away from one another—necessary space—before coming back together. Continuing their training seemed important, but they also restarted patrols in the evenings if only in attempts to _do_ something. To plan, to be ready. But the efforts were fruitless, nor were there any akumas to distract them.

Hawkmoth was quiet, which left not only the heroes, but the entirety of Paris, on edge.

The tension was thick, the battle atop Tour Montparnasse weighing heavily in the psyches of everyone. Though the citizens had been forced to leave the area during the conflict, they all knew this was something bigger than the typical akuma. The child had been hospitalized and Ladybug's Lucky Charm hadn't helped in easing their shocked condition. None of the heroes had commented, no reporters could get ahold of them. They trained by day and patrolled by night—all in the hopes of finding even the smallest of clues. But there was nothing.

"He's planning something," Tortue de Fer murmured one evening, crouched down on a high ledge as Ladybug and Chat stood just behind. They were looking out over Paris' glittering lights, the night heavy and quiet despite the typical nightlife. "The air is too still."

"No akumas, no Volpina, no Queen Bee," Adrien agreed. "It's eerie."

Ladybug crossed her newly gloved arms over her chest. "I don't like it."

There'd been times when Hawkmoth had been slow, when akumas had been few and far between, but this seemed… different. They were waiting, vulnerable and with their eyes closed, for their enemies to sneak up behind them. Blindfolded with their hands tied.

"We need to come up with a plan of our own," Fer decided, standing straight before he turned back to them. "Something to lure them to us for a change."

"But how?" Ladybug asked. "There's nothing to bait them with." Nothing they weren't already coming after.

Chat raised a knowing claw. "We do know one thing," he said. "Volpina is Lila Rossi."

A very valuable piece of information that—under the shield of Master Fu and their training—they'd failed to use.

"If we could find her…" Fer agreed.

"The only problem is that she told me she never changes back from Volpina anymore," Chat continued. "I don't know if that's possible or not, but if she _is_ spending most of her time transformed, it could be hard to find her in a vulnerable position."

"She has to have a civilian life though, right?" Fer asked. "She has a family, something."

"Unless she's abandoned all that," Chat reasoned.

"I'll have Alya look into it," Ladybug decided. "Look through missing persons, find her parents, that kind of thing. Maybe that'll lead us somewhere."

"Hey!"

Snapping around, they all peered down the side of the apartment building atop which they stood. Below, waving from an empty ally, was a single man. A familiar man.

"Mr. Kubdel," Chat murmured.

"Kubdel?" Fer asked. "Alix's dad? What's he want?"

"He's a historian," Ladybug explained. "He expanded some on a few other superheroes once before."

Fer's expression was nothing but confusion.

"We'll tell you later," Chat assured, before they all leapt down to meet the man.

He appeared out of breath, suit somewhat unkempt as he reached up and straightened his glasses.

"Mr. Kubdel," Ladybug greeted simply, all poise as Chat and Fer flanked her on both sides. "What can we do for you?"

"You three are quite difficult to get ahold of these days," he managed to pant out. His statement made sense—they'd been avoiding reporters and hadn't been much around in the day time. "I've been trying to catch you the last week."

They waited.

"I may have discovered a few more things you'd be interested to know."

Lips pursed thoughtfully, Ladybug looked between Chat and Fer for silent verification before nodding toward Kubdel. They agreed to meet him at the Louvre, before vaulting back up onto the rooftops. Chat made sure to give Fer a rundown on what they'd learned of the Podwójne Ogony—twin tails—previously, which he listened to without comment. Soon enough, they were waiting outside the Louvre pyramid, it taking Mr. Kubdel considerably longer to get there.

But soon enough they were being escorted down the dimmed hallways, back the same way they'd gone before. Until, finally, they reached his office.

Opening the door, Mr. Kubdel gestured them inside. It was an even tighter fit than last time with Fer added to the mix. Not only that, but someone else was already present as they walked in.

The same older man from before—Baines. Chat recognized him right away. Not only had he been the one to escort them to Kubdel's office previously, but he'd also been working with his father. Something about historical fashion designs, if Chat remembered correctly.

"You remember Richard Baines, of course," Kubdel said, gesturing to the man. Stoic as ever, he watched them all with the same air of distrust as he had previously, though not with any of the surprise. "He's been helping me with my research ever since your last visit."

They all nodded, Chat surveying each part of the room with his enhanced vision. The lights were on, of course, but shadows still crept from the corners. And if there was anything he hated, it was being stuck in a cramped space.

"What is it you wanted to tell us?" Ladybug cut right to the chase, Kubdel going around his desk—where Baines was also sitting—before plopping himself down in another chair.

"I've made some very interesting discoveries as of late," he started, more than willing to be just as direct as Ladybug. "Ever since you mentioned that Volpina and Queen Bee are in possession of miraculous jewels." They'd said as much in an interview.

"Of course, it's obvious to me that Volpina must be in possession of the same jewel the Volpine harbored during World War II."

"Yes, we'd come to the same conclusion." They knew exactly how many miraculous jewels there were, so it didn't take much to make such a deduction.

"Of course, of course." Seeming excited, he jolted to his feet again, pacing some behind his desk and Baines, who was watching him with a silent air of exasperation. "But you see, it was Queen Bee who I was most interested in, upon seeing your interview."

Their silence pushed him to continue.

"I did, of course, put in a search for sources on a similar superhero, not expecting much. But," he stopped, whipping around and holding up a single finger, "I was pleasantly surprised when a few—though they were limited—sources came back to me." He gestured vaguely to the files on his desk. "Few as they were, I managed to get three translated sources about a superhero that went by the title 'Sting.' All but one of the sources were originally in English, from America, though they provided nothing more than sighting information. No details, no descriptions."

"Are these also from the World War II era?" Ladybug asked.

"No, more recent," Kubdel continued. "Early sixties. What's interesting, however, is that the final source came from Spain, not America. And mentions more than just 'Sting.' No names were referenced, but, including 'Sting,' three others were written of."

"Three others?" Chat asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "But there was nothing else?"

"I… No, unfortunately not. The source seemed to be some sort of… of question. It was asking about someone referred to as 'Sting' and implied that they might have been accompanied by three other 'unusuals' with unique powers. If there was a response to the inquiry, I have not located it."

"And this was from the 60s, you said?" Chat wanted to make sure.

"Yes." Kubdel nodded, taking a short breath as though to settle himself. "I realize it's not much, but with all that's been happening lately, I thought that you'd want to hear any and all that I know. Perhaps it will be of some use to you. In some way." He looked to Baines. "Richard's been helping as well. With how the terrorist attacks have been progressing, we thought that- that this might be what is most important."

What was most deserving of their scholarly attention. They were trying to help in any way that they could, no matter how small.

"Thank you," Ladybug said a second later, taking a single step forward. "Your efforts don't go unappreciated by us." Did Kubdel look relieved? Chat thought maybe he did. "Anything and everything you learn that you feel could be helpful to us, we wish to know. Even if it seems insignificant."

Kubdel nodded. "I'm glad. I… I wish for this reign of terror to be over, truly."

Which was understandable. Both his children had been akumatized—been victims to Hawkmoth's plans. It was only reasonable that he be concerned. Perhaps overly so, in comparison to others.

"It will end," Ladybug promised. "We'll make sure of it."

Shoulders slumping, Kubdel allowed a small smile to stretch beneath his mustache. "I'm glad to hear it."

He had nothing else to tell them, their visit short in comparison to their last. As before, it was Baines that escorted them back to the front, getting them by security and back out into the open air. They'd intended to take off right away—to discuss what they'd learned in private—but Baines followed them out, drawing their focus as he loitered.

He shifted from one foot to another, looking them critically up and down.

"Yes?" Ladybug asked after a moment.

Baines huffed, pursing his lips in what appeared to Chat as something like disapproval, before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I…" His eyes darted between the three of them. "There's something…"

Chat's eyebrows shot up curiously beneath his mask.

But a second later—chilled gaze shooting to the side—Baines closed up again. "Never mind. It's of no relevance." Movements sharp, he turned back toward the doors. "If we discover anything else, we'll let you know."

Before the heroes could object, he'd vanished back inside the museum.

Exchanging quickly skeptical looks, the three were soon bounding once again across the rooftops, Fer shooting off ahead on his shield while Ladybug and Chat dashed behind. They came to an eventual stop atop an abandoned warehouse, Chat making sure to check that no one was watching before they began their discussion. After all, they had both "friends" and foes that liked to show up out of the blue.

"Sting, huh?" Fer said once they were all focused in. "That certainly sounds like a name the Bee miraculous user would take."

"Yeah, but there's no proof of that," Ladybug objected, sounding nearly bitter. "There's no proof of anything, let alone that the sources Mr. Kubdel found referenced miraculous holders."

"Four at one time though—that's a big number," Chat interjected. "From what… what Master Fu told us, there are only seven miraculouses, right? That means there's a good chance one of those four was one of _our_ miraculouses, if any of it's miraculous related."

"Or it's all the miraculouses _but_ ours," Ladybug pointed out. "Besides, even if it was one of ours, none of our kwami are going to say anything about it. They refuse to talk about the lives of previous miraculous holders." One of the few things Chat knew irritated Ladybug about Tikki. He, on the other hand, was in a constant state of irritation when it came to Plagg.

He wondered if Fer was in a similar predicament with Wayzz. He'd have to ask.

"The 60s, though," Chat continued thoughtfully. "That's a time a lot closer to ours than the Podwójne Ogony were. If the four were miraculous holders, there's a good chance they're still alive."

"Unless they're the same," Fer pointed out. "Miraculous users get extended lifespans. We have no proof, 'course, but maybe two of these four were the Podwójne Ogony. Plus Sting. That leaves one other. If they kept their miraculouses after World War II, it could have been them. Though Spain is a bit further west than you said the other sightings were, it's still Europe."

"That's true," Ladybug agreed. "I hadn't thought of that. But, really, if we think about it like that, even if they did eventually give up their miraculouses, the Podwójne Ogony could still be alive."

"Well, _we_ have three miraculouses," Adrien started. "Lila has one. Then of course there's Queen Bee, who is probably new to things." Based on how she related to both her own and Hawkmoths powers. "That leaves Hawkmoth, who we know nothing about, and…"

"And Blue," Ladybug concluded.

"Blue," Adrien agreed. "Whoever they are, they're much more experienced than us. You can tell just by watching them fight." The three teenagers weren't bad in combat by any means—that wasn't what he was saying. But the cloaked figure clearly had far more practice under their belt. And based on what Ladybug had told him, a certain degree of ruthlessness that they all lacked.

"Maybe they're part of this previous generation," Fer suggested. "From World War II and after. I mean, that'd still make them pretty old, but…"

But Master Fu had been nearly two-hundred, yet had looked somewhere in his sixties or seventies. And, from what he'd said of how the turtle miraculous was passed down, he'd received it later in life. If these other miraculous users had started out earlier, who knew how old they'd be by then.

"Well, say Blue is one of these miraculous holders," Chat said. "What good does that do us?"

A question none of them could answer. Because, really, what they were discussing did them no good. They didn't have enough information to make anything concrete of what they'd learned—it was all hypothesis. Hypothesis without facts to back it up.

All they were _really_ doing was looking. Trying to find answers anywhere they could. Yet, unless it could lead them to Hawkmoth's identity, focusing back on the lives of other miraculous holders wouldn't do them any good. Or so Adrien figured. This was _their_ battle, _their_ war. Unless they could get detailed descriptions on how their enemy's powers worked as a result of history, then it really served no purpose. At least, not as it was. Not with so little to make of it.

"Do you think we should try finding Blue?" Ladybug eventually asked.

"They seem to do a pretty good job of finding us," Fer pointed out.

"Yeah, but, if we found them, if we could understand their motives…" Chat knew what she was thinking, and not because he could read her thoughts when she let him. They needed all the help they could get. If Blue was an older miraculous user, then perhaps they could recruit them. Or at least learn from them.

Try to replace the empty spaces Master Fu had left behind.

"I doubt we'll be able to find them," Fer said, crossing his arms over his armored chest as he did. "Master Fu had said the user of those fans," from among the practice weapons, "was an elusive miraculous user—that their power hadn't been possessed by a guardian in nearly two-thousand years. Seems like they're the type that's only found if they want to be."

"That's true," Ladybug agreed. "If they wanted to work with us, they would have approached us by now."

"Besides, we can't keep depending on others," Chat decided, drawing all their attention his way. "We used to get along fighting akumas just fine." He'd looked directly at Ladybug. "And we were doing pretty good against Volpina and Queen Bee last time. We just… weren't totally prepared." A light way of referencing the end of the conflict. "They want us to be uneasy, to doubt ourselves." Balling his hand into a fist, he stared down at his black-clad knuckles. "We can't let their surprise attacks and mental games dictate our actions. We can't be afraid of them simply because they want us to be."

They needed to stop stepping back defensively and instead move forward.

"Maybe, if we'd been more proactive, we could have prevented what happened," he continued. "I know what it's like to sit, and wait, and do nothing. It'll get us nowhere." Taking a deep breath, he met their gazes again. "If Blue doesn't want to work with us personally, then we can't worry about it. We have to… We have to make do with what we have."

"Instead of focusing on what we don't," Ladybug finished for him.

Fer nodded. "I agree. We know Volpina's identity, so we'll start there. And we'll keep doing patrols. We have to find something eventually." Or so they had to tell themselves. They were superheroes—they couldn't afford to mope and wish for the world to unfold itself for them. If they wanted to end this, then it was time they took preemptive action in order to do so.

"I'll call Alya about it tonight," Ladybug decided.

"And I'll get that superhero book my father has," Chat added. "We may not be able to read it, but maybe it'll still be useful. Give us a clue about Hawkmoth, Blue, something."

"Maybe Mr. Kubdel could make something of it," Ladybug recommended.

"Maybe," Fer agreed. "It's a coded book, right? About the miraculouses?"

"Yeah." Chat nodded. "I wouldn't feel comfortable giving him the whole thing, but we could copy down parts of it, see what he thinks." They were willing to take all and any leads they could at that point, no matter how useless they'd likely end up being.

"Awesome," Fer said. "We'll find something."

"We have to," Chat agreed.

"We don't have a choice anymore," Ladybug finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrrrrrrrrr, only three chapters left of part 2. Here we go! 
> 
> Mature content warning about the next chapter. I'll put a warning at the beginning of 20 and probably find some way of marking the beginning and ends of the explicit stuff in-chapter, for those of you who don't want to read it ;)
> 
> Sad chapter is sad though, but a few interesting things happened. I'll be curious to know your thoughts :D


	20. Part Two - Run Me Like a River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! WARNING! SMUT CHAPTER! NSFW! SIN! EXPLICIT! WHATEVER YOU CALL IT!  
> I said I'd warn you, so I'm warning you, lol. I've also gone to the liberty of marking where the explicit scenes begin and end for those of you who didn't want to read them. When it begins, you'll see an arrow pointing to the left and an arrow pointing to the right when it ends. There are TWO explicit scenes in this chapter. If you don't want to read them, don't! This story is NOT ABOUT SIN! So long as you're aware that it happened, you're fine. Don't stress over it. If it makes you uncomfortable, then skip it, friend ;D  
> TO THE REST OF YOU SINNERS! Hope you enjoy :D (sorry if you don't--NSFW is hard for me, lol).

"My Lady, wait!" Chat called as he touched down on the rooftop. Above them, the night sky was foggy with clouds, the street lights igniting the world below. They'd ended their patrol, Kubdel's words, though important, fading in the face of reality.

A reality they were all too familiar with and that Chat was growing weary of drowning in. They had goals now, and though such things didn't erase the pain and loss, it did well in posing a distraction.

Just as other things could.

Ladybug had stepped down ahead of him, balanced on a ledge before she turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. He was crouching on the same ledge, bending up until he was standing and placing a single hand flat against his chest.

"I have a question for you," he started, edging a sort of devious sprinkling through his consciousness. Which had her spinning fully on him with a skeptical brow and fists on her hips.

Smirking, he pushed all their heaviness down around his feet, quite as though he were surging to the surface for air. Any relief, no matter how light or seemingly insignificant, was worth working for. He knew from past experience that wallowing in sorrow would get them nowhere. They had to move on, if only by force.

Let the grief snap and drag at their heels—he knew they could pull forward.

"This inquiry is of a more intimate nature and I view it as only proper that I get strict permission from you on the subject," he explained, smirking as he bowed dramatically. Chivalry wasn't dead, after all. Not so long as it got him huffing indignation from his lovely lady.

"Just spit it out, Chat," she said, losing patience like sand sifting through a holey sack.

Finishing his bow, he straightened before clearing his throat. "If you recall, it was exactly one week ago tonight that you and I found ourselves mildly undressed in a lake just outside the city."

Her eyes widened at his words, a deep flush assaulting her cheeks below her mask. "Chat!" she hissed, looking around—as though there could possibly be someone close enough to overhear.

"It's a night that I look back on in great fondness," he continued, causing her to slam her palm against her forehead. "And so I have a proposition for you."

He could feel her thoughts biting at his own. It was a feeling easily ignored.

Holding up a knowing finger, he went on. "It was during this time that you gave me permission-"

 _You begged me_ , he corrected himself mentally, which earned him a glare.

"-to touch your breasts."

"Oh my god," she muttered, reeling around on her heel before she covered her face with her hands.

"As a result of this fortuitous event, I propose this—If you're agreeable to the idea, I would like permission to touch the aforementioned breasts whenever I please." Moaning into her hands, she sank down into a crouch. He could practically see the steam rolling up from beneath her hair and it took all his self-control not to burst out laughing. "Touching that would include but not be limited to: petting, groping, squeezing-"

_Ugh, stop! You're so embarrassing!_

"-holding, cuddling, sleeping-"

"Shut up!" she squawked, causing him to falter. "Someone is going to hear you!"

"But I'm not finished."

_Then just think it at me!_

"Well, I want things to be one-hundred percent clear, My Lady."

"I think it's clear enough!"

"I didn't even get to motor-boa-"

She pointed a harsh finger at him. "I will end you, kitty. Don't you dare finish that sentence."

He couldn't hold back any longer. Giving in, he let the laughter echo up through him. Like popping a cap, it released all the built up pressure. Until it was overflowing into Ladybug's consciousness, leaving her in feigned disappointment as she shook her head and pretended like her smile was one of exasperation and not amusement.

The humor likely didn't last as long as effortlessness would have previously allowed, but Chat hung on and forced it to remain. Smirking, he clasped his hands behind his back as he crept closer to her, until they were standing so near that she had to look up in order to keep eye contact.

"So?" he asked.

She cocked a questioning brow.

"What's your answer?"

"My answer?" Now she was just teasing.

"Do I have boob rights or not?"

She gaped, as if she couldn't believe he had the sheer audacity, before sighing and shaking her head. He could tell that, though she acted disgusted, she was enjoying their fun just as much as he was. There was a light thrumming of pleasure pulsing between them, giving away far more than any words could.

"I guess," she finally decided, sounding as though it were an inconvenience that he'd even asked. "But only when it's appropriate."

"Appropriate?" he asked slyly, before reaching out and gently cupping her breasts through her suit. "Define 'appropriate.'"

"I certainly think commonsense would provide definition enough," she murmured, which only got him grinning wider.

"I accept your terms," he said, allowing his claws to gently scrape against her suit as he squeezed a little harder. Her breath came quicker, but their armor—though it looked flimsy—hardly allowed for any actual physical feeling between them. And so Chat continued smiling as he slowly pulled his gaze from hers. Leaning lower, he bent his knees just enough that his head was level with her chest, hands still firmly in place.

"Hello, Mari's Breasts," he whispered "seductively," leaning slightly closer. "We meet again."

"You're ridiculous." She cracked any sensuality right down the middle when she reached out and shoved him back by the shoulder. Stumbling, he laughed again while she turned and started walking down toward the corner of the building. Catching his balance before he could topple over the edge, Chat bounded after, intent on wrapping her up in an embrace so as to stop her from darting off.

But before he could, she whipped around and pointed her finger up at the tip of his nose, halting him mid-step so as to prevent them crashing together.

"Where are you staying tonight, kitty?" she asked, sufficiently changing the subject despite how he wanted to reach out and snuggle her closer. "At Nino's again?"

"Well, I don't have to," he replied, rubbing his nose once she'd pulled her hand back. "Are you inviting me over?" He waggled his eyebrows, just for good measure.

During the last week, he'd spent more nights at Nino's than anywhere else, mostly because both he and Ladybug knew Nino didn't get along with his family and hadn't wanted him to be alone so soon after…

But Nino had mentioned that very morning that he "didn't need a babysitter," and so Chat figured maybe he'd better spend his night elsewhere.

Not that he was complaining.

"I'm taking pity on a poor, mangy alley cat in case he needs a place to go," she explained, frowning in mock sympathy.

"I'm _not_ mangy," he corrected, reaching up to smooth his ruffled hair and knowing it did no good. "Though I appreciate the thought. However, before we go anywhere, I have to go to my house and get some clothes. The stuff I had at Nino's is all dirty."

"Okay," she said simply, reaching for her yoyo. "I'll go with you."

He nodded, the two heading off a second later. They weren't far, soon swinging down around the Agreste mansion to the tall windows that lined Adrien's bedroom. They pushed one of the glass panels easily open, as he'd purposefully broken the latch for the exact purpose of entering from the outside.

The room was dark as they dropped in, the two willing away their transformations before watching Tikki and Plagg flit off out of sight. There was still the threat of Volpina, which was why Adrien continued to keep his distance from the mansion (that, and he hated being there), but he was less concerned with her stalking than previously.

He knew it was a foolish mindset, as did Mari, but he almost _hoped_ Volpina was watching them. Sure, it'd mean their identities would be known, but… he couldn't really bring himself to care in those moments. It was the anger and grief talking, he knew. Not logic. But if she came, then they could _do something_. They could catch her, get her miraculous. Stop her before she could hurt anyone else.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm going to text Alya while you get your stuff," Mari said as she pulled her phone from her pocket, the screen igniting the darkness. Adrien nodded, shucking his duffle bag off his shoulder before going to the hamper in the corner of the room. Dumping the soiled articles, he then headed into the bathroom, only vaguely aware of Mari's typing. She'd taken up a seat on the side of his bed, where he could see the glow of her phone from the bathroom while he rummaged around in his large wardrobes for more clothes.

She was silent, though the general pattern of her thoughts was warm and slightly apologetic. Which was usually the vibe she gave off when she talked to Alya these days. With recent events, as well as the funeral, the two hadn't had time to personally get together and talk about everything, but he knew Mari aimed to do so soon. Alya deserved no less.

Shoving his clothes haphazardly into his duffle, he headed back out into the main room, Mari still focused intently on her phone. Dropping his bag to the floor, he plopped down on his mattress beside her, propped up on the flats of his hands. She was typing, face aglow in the shadows, and he focused on the silhouette of her profile, tracing it with his mind's eye.

Maybe it was the dim lighting, or just her sheer presence, but—as had happened many times before—he was abruptly captivated by her beauty. The softness of her features, the midnight of her hair. The strength that he knew ran through every muscle in her body, framed by the softest skin he'd ever touched. He wanted to count every freckle she possessed, until each one was seared into his memory.

He was certain that, if she allowed it, he could lose himself in the blue of her eyes forever.

"Really?" she asked softly, voice flat as she turned to look at him.

He shrugged, grinning and unfazed that she'd been privy to every one of his thoughts.

"You're a hopeless romantic, you know that?" she murmured a second later. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"No shame in the truth," he assured.

She rolled her eyes and put her attention back on her phone. Flopping down on the bed, Adrien watched her as he tapped his fingers lightly atop his chest, content to softly whisper compliments between their thoughts. Until she was huffing and turning toward him again. Setting her phone aside, she leaned back as she looked down on him, Adrien making no attempts to hide his pleased little grin.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked quietly.

"I am at your complete disposal, My Lady. Do with me whatever you please." He added a wink just for good measure.

She smiled gently, keeping eye contact for only a few seconds before her gaze fell to the sheets. There was something inching through her thoughts, barely brushing his own, and he grabbed at it in concern, frowning in the same moment.

"What are we going to do if we can't find any leads?" she wondered aloud. "This whole battle seems so…"

"We'll find something," he assured, trying his best to dig up certainty between them.

"But what if we don't?" she asked. "Our enemies aren't afraid of hurting others and they know we'll come running if they so much as threaten a civilian. They could trap us and there'd be nothing we could do to prevent it."

They were heroes. Even at the threat of their own lives, they had to rise to the challenge no matter the circumstances. And, until recently, that threat—though real—hadn't materialized. They hadn't had to face it. Yes, they both feared losing those close to them. But fearing potential and being faced with the reality were vastly different.

They realized what they did was risky—Adrien knew Mari had struggled to come to terms with as much. With the fact that, for all their practice and preparation, he could be gone before she could stop it. Nino too. Anyone.

"Mari…" Leaning up, he placed his hand atop hers on the bed.

"I'm not afraid," she said. "If there's anyone I want to fight this war with, it's you. But…" her free hand balled into a fist in her lap, "sometimes I wonder what would have happened if…"

_If we'd never gotten the miraculouses._

Eyebrows furrowing, Adrien waited patiently for her to continue.

"We've learned so much being superheroes, and I know it's done just as much good as bad." She draped him in affection then, knowing he valued his freedom and his powers more than either of his teammates. "But…" Reaching out with her free hand, she placed it gently on his chest, "what would things have been like if we'd never… What about all the things we'll miss if we don't…"

She couldn't voice it, but Adrien felt her intentions as they shifted between them.

"It's not about what we'll miss if we don't make it," he murmured. "It's about valuing what we have now, no matter what that is. If I can do that," he shrugged, smiling as he did, "then I can die happy."

"Don't say that," she whispered, her fingers gripping his tank top into a fist. _It's like you've already given up._

"I haven't given up," he said. "I just see worth in every moment we have, that's all. I'm happy, Mari, with you. You're the first thing since… In a long time that's made me feel like anything really mattered. I don't regret a single second spent with you." Reaching up, he caressed her cheek, sliding his thumb gently beneath her eye. "You, my ring, working together—you've made my life _mean_ something. Even if it meant dying tomorrow, I wouldn't go back and rewrite it."

_Even with Plagg, it's you that inspired me. You dropped in on me and suddenly every step I took was worth any struggle._

_You changed my world, Mari. And that's a world I'd rather die in tomorrow than be without and live forever._

For a few seconds, they simply kept eye contact in the darkness, only the vague light from the moon shaving away at the shadows. And, all the while, Adrien did what he could to push the sheer gravity of his affection for her from his thoughts into hers. It wasn't a matter of whether they made it through another day or not, but whether that day was worth it.

At that point—where they were then—any time at her side more than fulfilled the equation.

"You really are ridiculously romantic, you know that?" she murmured, her uncertainties becoming a gentle thrum when faced with the severity of his regard. "Sickeningly so."

"Well, one of us should be," he joked.

Scoffing, she pushed him gently, causing him to fall back against the bed. He chuckled, before taking a short breath. Quiet fell between them once again, the silence becoming thoughtful when Mari pulled her gaze to the sheets, slowly dragging her finger through the creases.

"What?" Adrien asked.

She cleared her throat before looking his way again. "Were you being serious? Earlier, I mean." Because he was clearly confused. Yet, her explanation did little in expanding the topic.

A light blush rose up across her cheeks, though Adrien couldn't see it. He only knew because of the warm flash that passed between them, which hinted at some kind of embarrassment on her part. And that, of course, piqued his curiosity even more.

 _Earlier tonight_ , she clarified mentally, leaning back a bit as she fidgeted uncomfortably. A few flashes of their previous conversation ran through Adrien's head, specifically their flirting before they'd ducked into his bedroom. His inquiring words echoed more loudly than the others, which had him a bit flushed as he tapped his fingers atop his chest.

"You mean, about…" _About being allowed to touch you?_

"Er, yes, that," she verified.

Yet, despite her inquiry, both her thoughts and words were somewhat guarded, which made it difficult for Adrien to interpret why she was asking. And, as the subject was somewhat… sensitive, he wanted to say the right thing. He wasn't nearly as good as she was at hiding his feelings, however, and so uncertainty on the subject escaped him before he could reign it in.

"I'm not angry or anything," she cut in quickly, though her discomfort remained. "I just… was wondering because…"

Like the wings of butterflies fluttered between them, a sort of dented excitement shifted from her consciousness to his. It was unsure, and timid, but charged nonetheless. And hardly any easier to understand than her previous question.

"Because…?" Adrien asked, but her lips only pursed more tightly together. Propping himself up on his elbows, he tried to come up with the right thing to say. "Look, Mari, it's… whatever you're comfortable with."

"It's not that," she corrected quickly, nearly cutting him off. "I don't mind- I want- I'm… glad. That you asked, I mean. Not- not because you needed to, or- I mean, it's nice that you did, but that's not what I…"

"Mari…?"

"I'm just trying to say that I meant it when I said you could- that you could-"

She sighed, frustration tripping through her thoughts.

 _I meant it when I said you had permission_ , she finally managed to get across to him. "And I just… wanted to make that clear."

She bit the inside of her cheek and continued to avoid looking at him.

Adrien, meanwhile, gaped shortly before allowing a small smile to tug at one corner of his lips. "It's an honor, My Lady," he smarmed, hoping to dissuade some of her discomfort. "I give you permission to touch my breasts as well, whenever it suits you."

She scoffed, finally intercepting his gaze. Reaching out, she shoved him down into the bed again, hand flat on his chest. And, as if to silently comment on his previous offer, she kept her hold in place, fingers splaying lightly atop his shirt.

"Everything you expected it'd be?" he asked, still grinning.

"I'm _so_ turned on."

"I'm offended!" Reaching up, he cupped his pecks on either side of her hand. "Your tone implies the exact opposite. Are my breasts not good enough to impress you?"

"I find them lacking."

"Well, in that case," he shrugged against the sheets, "I'll look into plastic surgery. Can't leave my Lady unsatisfied."

She giggled.

"What size do you think would look good on me?" he continued, glancing down his nose at his chest. "D cup? Maybe an E?"

"Oh, you're definitely, like, G cup material."

"Such _grand_ expectations." Raising his hands, he pretended to grip the air above his chest, feigning the size of his potential breasts.

"What can I say? I'm high maintenance."

"Well, I'll be sure to do my _breast_ to please you then."

She laughed again. Adrien was positive he could listen to the sound the rest of his life and never grow tired of it.

She drummed her fingers lightly over his shirt while his own arms fell down at his sides. Despite their back and forth, the thoughtfulness had never left her. She was trying to go somewhere with the conversation, but Adrien simply couldn't figure out where.

"You've never, like…" She swallowed hard. _I'm the only girl you've ever touched, right?_

A question that, of course, had him blushing once again.

"Uh, y-yeah." She knew that though. The fact had been pretty clear the night they'd spent at Alya's lake house. Yet, he had the feeling she wasn't asking because she was actually looking for his answer.

She cleared her throat, slowly beginning to draw her finger in small circles over the fabric of his shirt. Though they had only the moonlight to guide them, he could finally see the redness coating her cheeks. Which meant that, with the shadows so thick, she was _really_ flushed. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss, it had her red enough that Adrien was suffering secondhand.

His stomach twisted a bit, but he ignored it.

"I've…" She fidgeted again. "I've never… t-touched a boy before."

Her statement took a moment to sink in, and even longer for Adrien to comprehend. Not because it was unclear, but because it was just so encapsulating. Her words were simple, but heavy, and implying much, much more than she'd said.

He'd never assumed that Mari had experience with other boys. Like him, he'd come to the conclusion that she was just as new to the notion as he was. It wasn't a difficult conclusion to come to when he considered how they'd previously related to one another. But it'd also never been a fact he'd felt necessary to bring up. They were young and had to start somewhere. Which left him concluding that she wasn't pointing out the fact because she thought he didn't know.

The light curiosity in her thoughts, which was prickling some into his own, gave him much more to go on than her words had. It started his heart beating faster, his stomach twisting harder, and his blood pumping in heated waves as he pushed himself into sitting.

"I'm a boy," he said stupidly, voice somewhat breathless.

She hummed, grinning shyly as her finger trailed from his chest down to his stomach, still forming light circles over the shirt fabric. Though her intentions were muddled, he was able to grasp at the edges of her actions. It sent all the heat in his body spiraling down between his legs, despite how he tried to keep himself calm.

He scooted a little closer to her, quite unconsciously, and she blinked up at him as her finger paused over his abdomen. Before her gaze flitted downward.

Her focus had him tensing somewhat anxiously. The heat that had sparked so swiftly between them hadn't spared him any modesty, nor did his jogger shorts offer much in the way of hiding his arousal. Coverage, sure, but that didn't make his situation any less obvious behind the fabric. And part of him was nervous that, maybe, he was jumping a bit ahead.

But she returned her gaze to his a moment later, biting the inside of her cheek as she gently pinched his shirt between her fingers. "I don't know what I'm doing…" she whispered, smiling nervously at the same time.

"It's pretty simple," he admitted, his own grin spurred by the same excited uncertainty as her own.

"Are you- Do you want…?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Mari," he murmured. "That's what I'm comfortable with too."

The feeling shot from her consciousness to his so quickly that it sent his nerves jolting, breath catching as another cascading wave of warmth shook down through his whole body.

 _I_ _ **want**_.

Well, he was more than willing to give her anything and everything. She didn't need to ask, or demand, twice.

<\---

Forcing himself to _breathe_ , so as not to get ahead of himself, Adrien gently laid his hand over hers. She released his shirt immediately, pliable in his hold as he slowly began to guide her lower. She didn't object, didn't pull her gaze from his, and only hitched a light gasp when her hand lightly brushed against the tighter part of his pants.

He was flustered already, however, and didn't know, exactly, how far she wanted to go. He was caught between wanting to push forward and being conscious of every inkling she sent his way, or didn't. Add in just how heavily the heat was layering between his legs and he knew he was just about as useless to the situation as the darkness was to their eyes. It left him searching her expression, desperately trying to find verification despite how the pulsing beneath his skin got more persistent.

He'd spent many nights imagining her there, with him, but the reality was nerve-wracking.

He wanted her to touch him. He wanted it _so badly_.

She hummed again, smiling while she did, and Adrien couldn't bring himself to care that his pleading had escaped his thoughts into hers. It was no different, really, than the desire she'd had for him that night a week before.

He _wanted_ to be under her spell—he wanted to be vulnerable.

With his hand still laying lightly over her own, she pressed her palm down, the fabric of his shorts rubbing against his erection. She didn't push hard, just allowed her hand to gently cup him through the cloth. But the motion had him twitching beneath her nonetheless, flashes of so many thoughts and dreams he'd had of _her_ bursting forth with his desire and desperation.

 _Please_ , he begged. _Please, Mari._

He wanted so badly to be _close_ to her—close in every way imaginable.

"Okay," she whispered, her breath splashing across his cheek. _Okay, Adrien_.

She'd asked for guidance, but as her hand slid a little firmer across his shorts, he knew he was going to be anything but helpful. There were so many movies, books, magazines, websites that gave advice on how these things should be done, as if thinking it through was even possible. He wanted, more than anything, to be level-headed about it. But as her fingers folded over the rim of his shorts, before gradually pulling them downward, he knew he was beyond logic.

Perhaps such things came with experience—experience neither of them had. Which left them both in the dark, exploring territory too new and too exciting to rationalize.

Leaning back on his elbows again, Adrien let the desire—the carnal humanity that was pushing hot lead through every vein in his body—take control. He wanted her touch, and so lifted his hips just enough to make it easier for her to slide his shorts and boxer-briefs down around his thighs. Her nails lightly scraped his skin as she did, which sent lightening sparking through every nerve. His body was so sensitive, and so hot, that it left him dizzy.

But he watched her nonetheless, breaths short as every muscle in his body twitched beneath his skin.

She didn't do anything at first, her curiosity focused between his legs as he was bared to the chill of the room. The open air was somewhat nauseating, the contrast so sharp that it had him cringing. But her curiosity worked in tandem with her own growing excitement, which washed over him unchecked and unguarded.

Carefully, she reached out and gently slid her fingers down the back of his shaft, from the tip down the heated skin. He twitched under her touch, wanting the warmth of her hold not so light, but wrapped around him. Yet, her curiosity held her back, Adrien closing his eyes and forcing himself to be as patient as he could.

He wasn't going to last long. No matter what she did, he was already a goner.

The mental admission had her giggling, touch still drawing too gently. Until she was at the base. She went a little lower, daring to cup him beneath his erection and send his stomach jolting up toward his chest.

Yet, she knew no better what she was doing than he did, and so eventually put her attention back on what was most obvious. Which was perfectly fine with him.

Moving back up, she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, the all-encompassing heat causing Adrien to bite his lower lip as he watched. Slowly, she stroked upward, leaving a torturously cold trail behind as she reached the top and slowly slid her thumb over the head. She messaged it some, which was nice and all, but he really, _really_ , just kind of wanted to get things moving a little faster.

"Impatient, aren't you?" she whispered.

Adrien managed a weak smirk in response. "You're teasing me on purpose," he replied, rather breathless.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she assured, her hand slipping down to his base again. "I'll pick up the pace."

"Th-Thanks," he managed to get out as she stroked up once more, only to return and do it again. And again. Until she'd established a rhythm that had Adrien closing his eyes, tongue bitten between his teeth. Each stroke was a layer of heat added one right on top of another, pushing every sensation into her hold until the rest of his body felt numb.

His bare hips rocked into the motion, picking up pace gradually. Until he was just barely thrusting up with her hand, completely unabashed as he gripped the sheets so as to keep himself anchored. Wave after wave of torturous heat washed through him, pushing a groan from his throat that caused Mari to slow for only a second.

"D-Don't stop," he said. He could feel her arousal buzzing beneath his own, which only pushed him closer to the edge.

Reaching out toward the side of the bed, his hand fumbled on the ledge beside the mattress, nearly knocking the tissue box he normally had sitting there to the floor. Despite how everything but where she touched was nothing more than a tingle nerves, he managed to yank a few tissues free.

Sitting up, he leaned in closer to her, one hand propping him up while the other cupped down around the top of his erection with the tissues. Mari had kept up her pace all the while, her stroking only getting more rapid as he mentally encouraged her to go faster.

She was right beside him and he leaned his head down on her shoulder, breathing heavily as everything inside him zeroed in, building and building until he was ready to burst. Like being bound up tight in a suffocating sling, everything closed in, every nerve tied tight, but fighting to be let loose.

And as another groan left his lips, everything inside him snapped and surged forward, his own hand tightening around his erection as she stroked him through. His hips still moved desperately against her hand, hasty and lacking the rhythmic control he'd fallen into previously. The tissues grew quickly soaked, but mostly successful in what he'd intended.

She kept her hold on him through it all, until he was trembling beside her with the finishing waves of heat slowly dying inside him. His toes curled, his grip gradually loosening before he pulled the tissues away and dropped them over the edge of the bed.

She still held him, though he'd gone soft, and while it took some time for the loud, fuzzy snowflakes to clear from his mind, he eventually latched onto the desperation still burning inside her. She was reaching out toward him, grasping at the arousal that was swiftly dissipating. All in efforts to keep him there, to keep him with her.

Because she wasn't done—she wasn't satisfied.

That low burn that had previously slunk beneath his own desire came overflowing between them, Adrien leaning up and catching her pleading, anxious gaze with his own.

It wasn't normally like this. Once he was finished, that was generally it, but though it didn't send him into hard arousal all over again, her own need burned through him—as hot and wanting as his own.

Somewhat bound by the shorts still wrapped around his thighs, he quickly shimmied them the rest of the way off, kicking both them and his boxer-briefs to the floor before he turned to her. She'd let him go, her hands coming up to balance on his his shoulders as he got to his knees on the mattress.

Pulling her to him, he relished in the sound of her gasping breath as he held her over his left leg, until she was straddling him. He could feel the heat between her own legs against his bare skin, the dampness sinking through her shorts. She anchored herself on his shoulders, grinding down atop his thigh and _demanding_ that he _do something_.

Wrapping one arm around her waist so as to hold her in place, he didn't hesitate in sinking his free hand down beneath the band of her shorts. She gasped again as his fingers dove beneath her panties as well, sliding against the wet folds between her legs.

She didn't stop grinding against him, the friction of his hand between her legs—touching her skin to skin—only making her that much more desperate. His thigh was the support, allowing her to press into him as hard as she wanted while he stroked his fingers against her, slipping between her damp folds and against that tiny bead that her had breath hitching with every pass.

Flicking his gaze to her face, he watched through the darkness as she closed her eyes, lips barely parted while soft, light moans escaped atop her panting breaths. His own heart beat with hers, the fluttering wings that slowly burst inside her echoing in him too.

Curling a single finger, he pressed it further up into her, which had her gasping louder at the intensified friction. Thighs tensing tight around his own, she pressed as fully over his hand as she could, forcing his fingers to sink deeper.

Yet, the angle was making it somewhat difficult. She wanted more, but his hand was wedged between her and his own thigh.

Besides, he wanted-

He wanted to _see her_.

The thought wasn't censored, flowing easily between them, and she put up no fight against it.

She whined, needing him still, when he forced himself to remove his fingers from between her legs. He had no intention of making her wait long, however, and quickly hooked his hands up behind her knees.

In one swift motion, he pulled her legs out from under her, sending her back into the sheets. She let loose a surprised breath, wide-eyed as she stared up at him. But not wary, not uncertain. Her gaze beckoned him closer, dared him to act, and her light giggle was accompanied by continued excitement pulsing afresh between them.

Smirking into the shadows, Adrien slipped his grip around the band of her shorts, making sure to catch the thin fabric of her panties in the same moment. Never breaking eye contact with her, he quickly slid the articles down her thighs, over her knees, and off her legs. Before tossing them aside without bothering to look where they'd landed.

She giggled again, her thighs held together as he slowly dragged his hands up her legs. Over her knees, his own smile widening as the bursts of butterflies snapped and sparked between them.

He never broke eye contact, fingers slowly sliding up her thighs to her hips as he hovered over her.

There was no looking away, not until she wanted him to. And, of course, he knew she did. She wasn't one for waiting, not when she really wanted something.

Not when he wanted so badly to give it to her.

Head leaning back into the sheets, she closed her eyes, no hesitation in her movements as she opened her legs for him. He'd snapped his focus down between her thighs immediately, arousal once more surging through him at the sight of her. Framed by her knees, he drank in every bit of her offered, both amused and flattered that the idea of him seeing her like this—spread open and exposed—only turned her on more.

Hands drifting from her hips down the insides of her thighs, he relished in how her body jerked beneath his touch, anticipating every move he made yet unprepared in the same moment. Sliding his fingers further up, he framed her gently, his thumbs sliding along the outside edges of her folds so lightly that he was barely touching her. Yet, she gasped anyway, releasing a whimper at the lack of pressure.

So he pressed harder, massaging carefully as her thoughts begged him to keep going. To get closer; to press into her.

Delving one thumb between the top of her folds, she released a surprised, gasping moan, her hands gripping at the sheets as he massaged small circles over the area, refusing to let up. He pulled his other hand lower, taking advantage of the wetness to easily glide one finger inside her.

Her hips jerked at the motion, chest heaving as yet another desperate moan left her lips. So he pushed further, messaging her all the while.

She rose up to meet him, pushing her hips forward and silently begging that he continue. So he did, slowly curling his finger in and out with the rhythm of his massaging thumb. Her hips rocked against his hold, matching his motions and gradually picking up their pace. He met her in every thrust, confident in sliding another finger inside her as she mentally pleaded for more.

Aware of every move he made through her, every sensation secondhand, he kept everything going even as her own pace began to deteriorate in the fervor of her desire. He made up the difference, thrusting his fingers in and out even as she lost some of her leverage. He massaged her clit a little harder, pressing in as her thighs parted further.

Her breathing was uneven, heavy, and drew his attention upward.

Up across her stomach, which was tense and bared as a result of her shirt riding up around her breasts. Her arms had drifted, one stretched out and still grasping the sheets while the other draped up around her head. Her hair was loose, barely contained within the hair ties, and her bangs hung in sweaty strips across her forehead.

Though it was dark, he could see the flushed redness of her cheeks, the soft pink of her parted lips as she panted. Her eyes were still closed, small beads of sweat sparkling across her skin. The sight of her was striking, like a hot iron burning him straight through, setting his blood ablaze. He was the only person to have seen her like this, the only one to have unraveled her until she was a whimpering, desperate mess, asking that he keep going, that he not slow down.

"A-Adrien," she pleaded, hardly able to say his name at all. Because he had slowed some, so captivated by her and the heat that sparked through him anew. And he knew she couldn't keep up on her own—her legs were shaking, her whole body numb to everything but what was happening between them.

He thrust his fingers into her once again, pinching her clitoris gently between his fingers.

She gasped, victim to it all. Vulnerable but open—a raw, intimate view.

The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Like it had in him, the world shattered in her. Wave after wave rushed through, pounding them both as the throbbing ache shifted from her and went spiraling through him as well. Back and forth, fluttering shockwave after shockwave.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before—so intense and tight and torturously overpowering. His arousal mixed with hers, perhaps, balancing dangerously between them until each side was slowly carved away to leave them trembling atop the bed.

Mari still breathed hard, short pants, eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to claim that he was doing better—that he wasn't just as shocked by the sensations as she was—but that wasn't the truth. He hadn't had anything previously to compare to that—to compare to the sheer pandemonium that was echoing between them, dying slowly and taking every ounce of energy they had with it.

\--->

He was left feeling cold and exhausted, sweat chilling him as he sat back. Her legs collapsed on either side of him, only their labored breathing able to be heard through the darkness.

"So that…" she started after many long moments. "So that's what that feels like."

If he'd had the energy, Adrien might have laughed. But, as he was then, all he could manage was a light snort. Pulling his hands up on either side of her, he'd intended to hover, but his muscles gave out as soon as he shifted his weight. Collapsing on top of her, he buried his nose in her collar, slipping his hands beneath her shoulders.

Whatever it was they'd felt, it wasn't merely "that." Most people didn't share thoughts, didn't share sensations. What had happened between them was far different than the experiences of others.

The beginnings of something no amount of research or know-how could prepare them for.

Yet, it was _theirs_. And they'd wade through it together.

Unwinding, Adrien relaxed over her, closing his eyes as she wrapped her arms up around his back.

Before any coherent thoughts could form, the fatigue took them.

They were asleep within moments.

**oOo**

Waking up, Marinette knew exactly where she was and whose arm was reaching around her, holding her close. Somehow, she'd ended up on her side, Adrien spooning up behind her. His legs lined her own, his chest moving against her back as his easy breathing mixed with her hair. Keeping her eyes closed, she told herself to go back to sleep. She didn't want to disturb the moment, perfect as it was. Being held by Adrien, cuddled close and warm and, for the moment, unfocused on the world outside.

But, no matter how many minutes she stayed still, she couldn't go back to sleep. Careful not to wake Adrien with her restless thoughts, she found herself abuzz despite the late hour, and eventually sighed in defeat. Cracking her eyes open carefully, she was safe against any bright light, as the room was still dark.

She couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours, maybe. She couldn't be sure.

All the more reason to _go back to sleep_.

Yet, the more she forced the issue, the more anxious she became, her whole body fidgeting beneath her skin.

Great, and now she had to pee.

Huffing gently, she gave up. Carefully, she reached up and removed Adrien's arm from her person, holding it back as she scooted forward across the sheets. Once she was safely away, she glanced back. Just in time to see Adrien frowning in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he rolled fully onto his stomach. He buried his nose into the sheets, before settling back down again.

Silencing her giggle, Marinette kept her eyes on him as she sat up, pushing her legs over the edge of the bed.

His hair was a mess, expression still relatively unhappy, and his t-shirt was wrinkled—the result of sleeping in it. The only thing he'd slept in, rather, as the rest of him was as bare as she was. Not that Marinette was criticizing.

After all, Adrien-butt was something she was more than happy to see.

Nodding, she silently congratulated herself on the sight, looking him over one last time before she got to her feet. Wobbling a bit, she slowly made her way around the shadowed room, not wanting to disturb anything and deciding—based on the stiffness between her legs—that she needed a shower. Eventually making her way to the bathroom, she slid the door shut before flicking on the light.

Scowling at the assault on her senses, she blinked rapidly as she made her way around. Doing what she needed to, she eventually found herself standing before the mirror, yawning before taking in her reflection.

Half her hair was undone, the other half barely holding on. Reaching up, she removed the last hair tie (the other one must have been on the bed somewhere) before beginning to run her hands through the locks. There was really no fixing it, however, and so she eventually gave up and yawned again.

She was going to regret the lack of sleep later.

"You tryin' to catch flies or something?" Plagg's familiar voice dashed through her thoughts, Marinette looking down to see the little kwami perched on the edge of the sink.

"Plagg, don't be rude," Tikki scolded quietly, buzzing around above him.

Marinette, however, found herself pursing her lips, unsure what to say to the two kwami. That they'd also been around hadn't even occurred to either her or Adrien while they'd been… busy.

"Er, sorry," she mumbled meekly, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.

Tikki flitted up in front of her nose, grinning as she did. "Don't be sorry, Marinette," she started. "Plagg and I don't mind."

"Human biology doesn't exactly bother us," Plagg added, causing Marinette to blush a deep shade of red.

"While I wouldn't put it that way," Tikki continued, giving Plagg a quick side-eye, "it's true. I'm glad you and Adrien are getting closer. It can only help you to grow stronger together."

"Right…" Marinette fiddled with the ends of her hair.

Plagg, on the other hand, scoffed, putting his nose in the air rather snottily. He'd crossed his little arms over his chest, looking quite disgruntled, before abruptly zooming off. He flashed through the door and back into the bedroom, Marinette staring after in surprise.

Tikki sighed. "Don't mind him," she consoled, drawing Marinette's attention back her way. "Plagg is complicated."

"Is he… upset after all?"

"No, he's not. Not with you and Adrien, in any case. Don't worry yourself over it."

Supposing that, as usual, kwami problems were none of her business, she nodded before putting her attention back on the mirror. Though Tikki stayed with her, they fell silent, Marinette's thoughts soon taking her back to Adrien.

And, inevitably, what's they done.

She could still feel it, the remnants of their activities tingling all over her body, pulsing weakly, but present nonetheless between her legs. The echo of his touch, of his fingers inside her, disturbed the butterflies in her stomach, though the feeling calmed with another deep, calculated breath.

She smiled to herself, glancing down at the sink.

Tikki giggled.

"What?"

"You," Tikki replied, settling onto Marinette's hand as she held it out. "You and Adrien. It's so nice to see you both so close."

"Yeah, I suppose," Marinette agreed, affection for him welling up in her chest. Yet, in the same moment, a light, flickering shadow of doubt cut through everything. "But, Tikki…"

"Yes?"

"I just… There's this nagging idea that I can't get out of my head," she admitted. "This idea that- that maybe Adrien and I aren't in control of- of this. That, maybe, what we're feeling," the devotion, attraction, and closeness, "is… is because of the miraculouses." She'd expressed such concerns before, though Adrien didn't seem nearly as perturbed by the thought as she was. Yet, they both knew there was something inside them, something _different_ , that was pulling them together. Something outside the norm. A force, maybe, that was beyond their control.

"Oh, Marinette," Tikki said softly. "You don't need to worry about that." The certainty in her voice drew Marinette's curiosity. "I know you asked me before, what the feeling was you had. Like there was something beyond yourself that wanted to be near Adrien. I didn't say at the time, but I know for certain that it's not the miraculous' fault."

"It-It's not?"

"No." She shook her bulbous head. "I couldn't tell you the whole truth at the time because you and Adrien were still so new to each other, still falling in love." Marinette blushed again. "I didn't want to ruin that with answers you weren't ready for."

"Answers?"

"Plagg and I made a vow a long time ago that we wouldn't impede on the relationships between black cats and ladybugs. We'd been honest from the beginning before and it'd always been too much for them to handle. It's better, we found, to let them grow together—to find comfort and affection at their own pace—than spoil the mystery. With some it takes longer, others not, but it's always a journey we let them take on their own.

"You and Adrien were picked to be Ladybug and Chat Noir because you were _meant_ for it." Which didn't make things any clearer to Marinette. "Plagg and I are two pieces of a single whole, just as you and Adrien are. The Guardian could tell, could see it in you both, and that's why you were chosen.

"You and Adrien…" She smiled. "You two are soulmates."

Marinette blinked, lips parting some as the word sank in. "Soulmates?" she questioned, not entirely comprehending. Not comprehending at all, in fact.

"Soulmates." Tikki nodded once. "The Guardian explained to you that people, animals, plants, everything, is made up of soul energy. You and Adrien share the same soul energy—it's identical. For every bit of him that there is, you have the same. Soulmates—made as one and split."

She explained it so logically, so certainly, but it still left Marinette gaping in confusion. "I don't… understand…"

"Sometimes, when souls are leaving the 'soul pool,' what's been gathered together is too big. The soul is too great, too dense, made up of too much, and so it splits as it's absorbed into the physical world. Your soul is made up of one half of such an event and Adrien's is the other."

"One half…"

"Precisely. But soulmates are rare, Marinette. So rare that there's only one set every generation, if we're lucky. Sometimes souls that split are absorbed by something other than humans—plants, animals. Sometimes one dies before it sees life, or through a premature accident. Plagg and I, we're made up of the same soul energy too, identical like you and Adrien. Which is why we require a pair of soulmates to create a compatible ladybug and black cat. That's what the Guardian looks for."

"We were picked because we have the same soul energy?"

"And because you showed promise," Tikki went on. "Some soulmates, even when found, aren't right to be ladybugs and black cats. Soul energy is mixed and reincarnated, forming at chance into souls. Souls that hold onto experiences of their pasts, even as they're broken apart and mixed with others. Sometimes… sometimes soulmates are made up of too many bad things. Sometimes their auras are too dark.

"But you and Adrien…" She smiled. "You two are so bright. So _good_. The Guardian knew as soon as he saw you both that you were the right choices. That you two would do right by Plagg and I. That you were _meant_ to be Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Meant to be—a fate that formed on chance. On the perfect combination of random variables that just happened to create a desirable result.

A concept Marinette couldn't even begin to wrap her head around.

"So that's it? That's why?" she asked. "Why Adrien and I… Why we're drawn to one another?" In a way that was unexplainable—that left them both anxious when they weren't together and thinking of the other whenever they were away. A physical reaction, not an emotional or mental one.

"You have to be careful how you interpret at the situation," Tikki said calmly. "There's nothing controlling you, Marinette. Nothing _making_ you love him. That's why I didn't explain this to you right away—because both Plagg and I wanted you and Adrien to come together on your own. And in whatever fashion you both wanted.

"Not all black cats and ladybugs love one another romantically. Some are platonic, some are siblings. There's many ways to love someone. How you and Adrien have come to love one another is all your own." Flying up, she set a small paw on Marinette's chest. "You're acting on what's inside you, not what anything else is making you do.

"The only thing the miraculous is guilty of doing is opening up pathways between you two that would normally be barred."

"You mean…" It wasn't a difficult deduction to make.

"Even soulmates can't read each other's minds and feel one another's emotions. Physical sensations too. Us kwami, we're made up of less physical stuff than humans. We're magic—soul energy barely held together in physical form. Unlike humans, who are more physical than they are magic. Your bodies trap your souls, only releasing them back to the pool at death. But the miraculous, it breaks down barriers between the physical realm and the spiritual. Enough damage can be done that it opens up physical paths between soulmates.

"No, 'paths' isn't the right word," Tikki decided, drifting away some. "It's… it's more like a screen. Your physical forms are too solid to break down, but the miraculous shaves away at it. Until it's so thin that, though the soul can't get through, the two can touch." She held her paws together. "When you and Adrien share thoughts, when you feel what the other is feeling, it's your souls touching. Drawn together and _wanting_ to be drawn together by natural law."

"Natural law?"

Tikki nodded. "The idea that what was once whole desires to be whole again.

"You and Adrien would have been drawn together no matter the circumstances. All the miraculouses do is expand the connection you two already share. It brings you as close together as possible, so that you might bring Plagg and I as close as possible as well. The closer Plagg and I are, the more powerful we become."

Closer to being one.

It was a lot of information, Marinette could admit that. It was no wonder Tikki had been so cautious about telling her. Yet, despite the gravity of the understanding, she wasn't overwhelmed. Her heart was beating fast and hard, and her thoughts were racing, but she was… calm.

It made sense, she realized.

Pulling her hand up, she clutched it over her chest.

It was _right_.

All this time, her body and her soul—whatever it really, truly was—had been trying to tell her something. Had been reaching out for the half of her that was missing. Nothing controlled or swayed her—it was her own self, who she was, that wanted him. That looked at him and knew, without a doubt, that this was it.

He was her love story.

"Do you remember, Marinette?" Tikki asked softly. "The first time you and Adrien touched?"

In the rain. He'd been handing her an umbrella.

He'd smiled and their bare fingertips had brushed.

That single moment, that single _jolt_ , had shattered the lock between them—the lock that would normally have remained their entire lives were in not for the miraculouses.

From then on, they'd been connected. Even if they hadn't known it.

"It's funny," Marinette murmured, managing a small smile. "It's so unbelievable to hear you explain it, but, somehow, I'm not surprised."

Tikki nuzzled her cheek. "That's what all Ladybugs say."

Giggling lightly, Marinette wiped her eyes, not entirely sure why tears had gathered there, but supposing it likely had something to do with relief.

Taking a deep breath, she patted her cheeks in the mirror once Tikki had flitted back, trying to calm her hammering heart. Yet it pounded continually, her skin prickling with anxious excitement that just wouldn't leave. She was afraid her nerves were going to wake Adrien up if she didn't get them under control.

She'd just get in the shower. That would calm her down some.

Pulling her shirt up over her head, she dropped it on the counter before removing her sports bra as well. Lastly, she slipped off the jade necklace Master Fu had given her, setting it in the corner behind the sink.

Toing her way into the room next door, she looked quickly around—taking in the black marble walls, the stairs leading up to the deep bathtub on the right, and the shower area on the left. The windows high above were still shadowed with early morning darkness, the moonlight guiding her to the light switch. The room was ignited in a soft, yellow glow as she flipped it, which allowed her to locate the valve that controlled the water.

He showerhead was large—one of those fancy ones that released the water like rain directly over her head. And it warmed almost as soon as she'd turned it on, the test she did with her hand proving as much.

Slipping under the water, she ran her hands through hair, pushing the strands back as she closed her eyes and turned her face to the stream. It was gentle, washing away her sleep before trickling down across her body. The steady rush of water steamed through her nerves, allowing her to take a steady breath in attempts to drain away all remnants from earlier in the evening.

Yet, despite her efforts, her insides still simmered with the memories, only encouraged by the steady pattering of the water.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't just _her_ feelings she was registering.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she pushed her drenched hair out of the way as she caught sight of him. He stood in the doorway, watching her. His green eyes looked her up and down, _slowly_ , before meeting her own gaze. She could perceive it all—his desire and want—without having to read any of his feelings.

<\---

For a moment, she saw herself through his eyes. Streaked with water, warmly lit, naked with her back to him. An image she realized set his blood ablaze, which, in turn, warmed her own. A back and forth that neither of them wanted to escape—that left them without words, but _knowing_.

Turning away, Marinette sifted her fingers through her hair again, arms raised as she squeezed the loose water from the locks only for more to gather.

She didn't have to look back to know he was coming up behind her—didn't have to listen for the soft padding of his feet on the tile or the light rustling as he lifted his shirt away before tossing it aside. Every movement he made, she made too, aware of when he was reaching out toward her.

Yet, his touch sent surprised shockwaves through her nonetheless. She couldn't control his actions, after all—only know them as he did.

Perhaps it was anticipation that made it so stirring, realizing his intents before they were made.

His hands gently cupped her shoulders, thumbs caressing the skin at the top of her spine. Taking a deep breath in through the water, she rolled her neck back, allowing her head to graze against his chest as he moved in close to her. Until he was pressed fully up to her, their bodies flush together. She leaned into him, reaching back until she found his hair, already heavy with water. Slowly, she drew her hands through the locks and down along his jaw, while his own drifted down her arms, pushing through the steams of water until he was reaching up to twine his fingers with hers.

Gradually, she lured his touch lower. The tips of their fingers skimmed slowly over her collar. Down along the insides of her breasts, which sent a gasp up through her throat in tandem with the fire that rushed to her lower stomach. Already building alongside his own.

Their touch traced down along her abdomen, her stomach retracting with excited trembles as her spine curved against him. Which pushed her ass into his groin, his hardened erection pressed tightly against her as he took gentle hold of her hips.

Her own hands wandering, she found his shoulders above her own, anchoring herself there as the edges of his nails traced scorching lines up her sides. Until he reached her breasts, at which point his cupping hold sent another gasping breath flying up through her.

She was steadily held against him, back to chest. His hips still ground into her from behind, palms massaging in tandem over her breasts as he moved. All the while, the water ran in rapid patterns across her every nerve, which was only doubled with the equal sensations he, too, was victim against.

His breathing was labored in her ears, not dissimilar to her own, and equally as expectant. Pulling her grip downward, she layered her hands over his, before steadily dragging them down her waist. Slipping her hold from beneath his, she slowly turned, her hands landing atop his chest as he wrapped his arms around her back.

The desire swelling up between his legs was teasingly close to her own, yet trapped between them as their wet bodies were once more plastered together. Trailing her hands down his chest, Marinette closed her eyes as she leaned her face in against his neck, which was exposed as he curled around her. His own nose was buried in her hair, his arms tightening across her back and pulling her as close to him as possible.

Drawing her fingers down his sides, she ran her nails along the edges of his abdomen, his tense muscles twitching at the slow decent of her touch. The water shifted out of the way, only to come streaming back across his heated skin seconds later.

Until she was sliding her hands to his hips, massaging them with her palms before she gradually shifted back. His own fingers traced down over her spine in the same moment, gently sliding over every depression and every vertebra until his hand was splayed out at the base of her back, catching the water and forcing it to detour around his grasp.

Both hands drifting lower, Marinette ran her nails barely over the tense muscles of his ass, causing him to take a quick breath as his body jerked around her. Placing her lips lightly to his neck, she settled her hold, grasping him firmly and squeezing.

His erection twitched between them, a muted grown echoing up his throat as he ground his hips against her own once more. The feeling of his tense muscles in her grasp spurred Marinette into biting her lip, squeezing harder and causing his groan to turn into a gasp.

Hands sliding back up on either side of her back, his nails scraped lightly at her skin, leaving pleasured marks as he trailed his lips down her neck. Bending back, he forced her own hands to drag upwards as he burned a trail down her shoulder to her collar. His mouth then dove down the swell of her breast, tongue grazing her nipple before he covered her fully with his lips.

The sensation of him sucking lightly on her breast shot a whimper up through her throat, her hands sifting tightly into his hair as sweltering, heavy heat dropped down beneath her stomach. She bowed into him, wanting more attention, and he gave it, biting just lightly enough to send lightning striking through her whole body.

And when he moved his lips to her other breast, he dragged his hand forward and once again cupped the one he'd left behind, kneading it with his palm. He nipped gently with his teeth, leaving Marinette a panting, mewling mess when he then gently kissed at the same area.

Part of her wanted him to continue the attention, while the rest of her was pulled along with his continuing motions. Hands tracing down her waist, he laid pressing kisses down her stomach, each touch and release sending a layer of anxious heat throbbing between her thighs. Until her body ached and her legs trembled.

He moved lower, until he was placing his lips gently beneath her bellybutton and dropping to his knees. Down, down, down, Marinette panting as his hands gripped firmly at her hips.

He pressed his lips down between her legs, before daring to push his tongue between the fronts of her folds. She gasped out a high-pitched whimper, fingers twisting in his hair as he massaged her gently with his mouth, not ceasing to press the heated dampness of his tongue further back.

Everything inside her was ablaze at the contact, the muscles beneath her stomach contracting tightly in response to his attention. They grew tighter and tighter with each and every pulsing throb, but never quite tight enough.

No, that wasn't right.

Not _full_ enough.

"Adrien," she managed to breathe out desperately, which only inspired him to keep going all the same. Yet, for all that was inside her, telling her something was missing—that there was more that she wanted—the weighted throbs never ceased. They bombarded her mercilessly, until she felt so overwhelmed with the nauseating heat that she thought she might collapse. But the desire kept her standing, had her balancing with one foot on her toes as she tried to open herself up to him. To give him better access.

Yet, he didn't heed her pleading. Instead—even as she angled herself towards him—he pulled his mouth back up. He wrapped his arms around her hips, laying deep, heavy kisses against her lower stomach.

The water continued to fall down atop them, what had once been a simple patter feeling like pinpricks all over their skin.

Painfully pleasured, their bodies raw and over-sensitive.

Taking as deep a breath as she could manage, Marinette gently pulled Adrien's head back. He looked up at her, eyes hungry with longing as she pushed his drenched hair back out of his face.

He was on his knees still, so she got down to mirror his position, thighs still spread wide as the muscles contracting inside of her screamed for attention. Hands moving to his shoulder as she leaned in, she nuzzled just up under his ear while trailing a single hand down his chest. Across the well-formed muscles of his abdomen until she was holding his shaft. His hips rose to meet her immediately, but she didn't stroke, didn't squeeze.

She moved her lips to his ear.

"Adrien," she murmured, leaning in closer. "I _want_ you."

He released a ragged breath.

 _I want you_ _**inside** _ _of me._

Millions of butterflies were let lose between them.

"Whatever My Lady wants," he whispered, turning his nose into her cheek, "she gets."

Smiling, she leaned away, locking her gaze with his as she gently pushed him back by the shoulder. He balanced back on his hands, legs unfolding until his knees were bent before him. Thighs spread apart, his erection stood waiting, Marinette pausing for only a moment to take in the sight.

Before she was crawling up between his legs, body draping over his as she pulled herself up over him. He flattened his legs enough to allow her to slip over them—until she was straddling his hips—before bending them back up so as to frame her in his lap.

Settling down on top of him, she slid the back side of his shaft between her folds, grinding against him as she placed her hands on his shoulders for leverage. He didn't move with her, not yet. She could tell by the small jerks of his hips that he wanted to—that the feeling of her wet center rubbing up and down his length was near too much for him.

Just as she wanted to be filled with him, he wanted to be wrapped in her.

She ground against him a few moments longer, relishing in the breathless anticipation. Before, finally, she lifted her hips, bending up on her knees. His erection sprang up from where she'd had it pressed down, bobbing some before he reached out with one hand to hold himself steady.

Pushing up off his shoulders, Marinette put all her weight on her knees, the water continuing to pour down upon them as she straightened her back and balanced her hands on her thighs. Catching his gaze, she held it, hovering above him for only a few seconds longer before she slowly began to sink down. The head of his erection brushed between her folds first, skimming down through her until she was dropping down far enough that he was pushing up into her.

She gasped, but didn't stop, continuing to slowly pull him in. There was some tight discomfort, but what she mostly registered was the way her body stretched to work around him, enveloping him completely as she sank until every inch of him was being pulled up inside her.

Replacing his hand behind him again, he bit his lip as she allowed her weight to fall down on him completely. Until she was resting fully on his hips.

Until he was completely submerged.

Her muscles, uncontrollable and stretched for the first time, contracted and released around him, over and over and spiking the burn inside her every single time. She didn't know how to move—what else to do—with how overwhelming it was to be _filled_ with him.

Until he shifted, pushing a wave of pleasure through her that sent a gasping moan from between her lips before she could even think to realize it.

He rocked up against her, hardly moving his hips, but it was enough to inspire spasming shocks of pleasure through them both. Sensations that demanded _more_.

And so he gave it. He rocked himself into her, slowly circling his hips up against her and beginning a sort of gradual rhythm. With each upward sway, a wave of dragging pleasure passed from him through her, continually and unrelentingly. With every motion completed, another followed afterward.

Marinette began to move with him, closing her eyes as she let the physical sensations take over completely. Her body knew what to do, so she followed it, which only inspired Adrien to do the same. To lean his head back, let go, and lose control.

His rocking picked up speed, until he was shallowing thrusting himself up inside her. The waves of pleasure came closer together, less room to breathe in-between, and Marinette found herself gasping with each completed thrust. As though he were pushing the soft whimpers from her with each push up inside of her.

It was a feeling she savored, that she wanted to experience with greater depth, and so he thrust harder, faster. The feeling of him there, only to have him retreat and fill her again, and again, and again. With every plunge, another layer of heat burst from between her legs. She felt numb yet euphoric, as if every sensation that echoed from his driving thrusts was all there was. All that existed in those moments.

She didn't know she was crying out in pleasure, didn't care.

And when his thrusts became so deep that his hips left the floor, lifting her, she felt her world crack a little. His too, each drive breaking it apart a little more until the heat was blazing so hot between them that it burned away any sense of balance. Marinette lost herself in it, in him, pushed so close to the edge. Dangerously close.

But she wouldn't fall. Not without him.

"Ah- _Adrien_!" she cried out, slipping.

But he grabbed her, pulling them together even as they tipped back.

Even as they fell.

"M-Marinette," he called, pushing himself forward as they lost their rhythm, the world spinning out beneath them. Desperately, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her chest yet continuing to move with her. She clumsily grappled at his shoulders, the water that drenched them making it hard to get a firm hold.

Together, their worlds shattered, sending them careening into the open with only each other to hold. Their bodies were gone, shredded into splintering nerves.

All that was left was the passion, a thirst that was dying with every weakened thrust and every labored breath.

But it died a slow death, Adrien rutting into her unevenly as he spent himself, while she trembled and gave in on top of him.

\--->

"I love you," he murmured, holding her tighter despite how his arms burned at the effort. He wouldn't let her go— _never_ let her go. "I love you so- so much."

Outside, the dawn had burst from the horizon, chasing the darkness back and pouring rays of golden-orange over the city. They leaked in through the windows, glinting off the glass and flashing sparkles through the water yet falling, unhindered, upon the tile.

Dragging up her last bit of strength, Marinette pushed it to her shaking hands. She reached up and gently cradled Adrien's cheeks, pulling him back and forcing him to look up at her. Leaning down, she placed her forehead against his, taking a trembling breath as their wet bodies began to grow cold and their eyes closed once more.

"I love you, Mari," he whispered.

"I know." Shifting, she placed her lips lightly on his forehead.

_I love you too._

Another beneath his left eye.

_I love you._

Beneath the right.

_I love you._

She laid a gentle kiss on his nose.

 _I_ _**love** _ _you._

Her lips hovered a hair's breadth above his own, so close that when she spoke, they brushed.

"I'm so in love with you, Adrien."

Pressing her lips to his, she pushed all that was left in her, all that she was, through to him. She drank in his touch, bathing him in the violence of her affection. Of her devotion.

She made sure he knew. She moved her lips together with his and made absolutely certain that he _knew_.

_I love you, Adrien._

_Always._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this was a soulmate AU? No? WELL! It's a soulmate AU, just not in the way ya'll usually expect. 
> 
> Again, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. NSFW isn't my strong suit, but I TRIED! At the very least, I hope it was intimate as far as the two characters involved. Also, let's all remember that Mari is on birth control. Just...keep that in mind, haha!
> 
> WHAT A HAPPY CHAPTER, HUH?! Wonder what that means... ;D
> 
> THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS ARE THE PART 2 FINALE! It's going to take me some time to get them done, but I'm SO EXCITED! If you haven't yet, come on over and join me on tumblr--gonna be lots of SF related stuff happening there as I get ready to post chapter 21 and 22. It's gonna be a PARTY! Well, maybe not, but I want everyone to be as excited as I am! I'M SO EXCITED! WOO!


	21. Part Two - Fate Pt. 1

"Who's there?!"

Her demand echoed between the pillars—from one side of the abandoned warehouse to the other. But the only response was the repeating rebound of her own words.

Someone was there—she could _feel them_.

"There's no use hiding," she growled, pushing herself away from the wall. Reaching up, she wrapped her gloved hand around the chain dangling from her neck, her hyper-sensitive hearing taking in any and all sounds.

The drip, drip of a leaking roof; the dusting of her light steps upon the chipping concrete. The whistle of wind between the supports, rattling the chains that hung loosely from the ceiling. The glass that would normally have let in the day was fogged with age, giving the whole room a bluish-green tinge that glowed when the light managed to break through the layers of grime.

Stumbling, she cringed, catching herself on a nearby beam. Huffing, she took a moment to catch her breath, gripping her necklace a little tighter. It throbbed in her hand, sending buzzing waves through her whole body. It was a comforting sensation—the power. Knowing it was _there_.

It kept the demons away.

"You can't hide forever!" she yelled, once more stumbling forward. With her free hand, she reached back and grabbed her flute, not caring as the end dragged against the ground. "I can sense your fear!"

Pushing past a chain that dangled in her way, she scowled at the vast opening in the room, ignited by the vague light. It was her least favorite part of the warehouse—so bare and exposed. Of course it would be the place her enemies would wait for her. Where she was most vulnerable. She much preferred the maze of supports and chains. So much safer and more obstructive.

Still, she couldn't allow herself to remain the stalked prey of some incompetent superhero wannabe. Even if it was risky, she had to go out into the open.

She had a _job_ to do.

Still gripping her necklace, she dragged herself warily into the glare of the dim light, focus darting around frantically as she searched. A shadow, a flash of red. Yellow even. She knew she'd be betrayed eventually. It was only a matter of time.

She trusted only one—the only one who truly believed in her.

He wouldn't betray her as others had—Ladybug, her parents, Adrien. They were all _worthless_.

"Come out!" she screamed. "I can sense your fear everywhere! You can't hi-"

Something splashed and she yanked her flute up defensively, hunched and ready.

Yet, nothing came.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, she dropped her arm, once more allowing her flute to bang against the concrete.

Another splash.

Looking quickly down, she realized there was a puddle. The result of the leak, no doubt. She was standing in it, the water rippling out around her feet.

But that was hardly what drew her attention.

"I found you," she hissed. With a clatter, her flute fell and rolled a bit to the side, forgotten as she dropped down onto all fours. Her hands splashed violently into the puddle, sending water spraying as the face beneath her wavered.

No, she couldn't let them escape. She had to stay calm.

"You can't escape me," she whispered, watching the ripples slowly dye down to reveal who was there. A young woman with long, brown hair dipped in white. It was tied in two tails along her cheeks, but the elastic that held it was disrupted, the hair bunching and sticking out erratically. Her tanned skin was splotchy, one side of her face splashed with mud.

She wore a mask. It was orange, matching the rest of her outfit. Wide, alert, almost manic green eyes resided within, the bags beneath hidden.

"Nothing you say can save you," she murmured, leaning a bit closer to the puddle. "I know you."

" _You don't_ ," the girl, tired as she was, replied back. " _You don't know me at all anymore._ "

"I know _everything_ about you!"

" _No, you've forgotten me. But I haven't forgotten you_."

"Forgotten me? You don't know me! You're a liar! You always have been!"

" _As much of a liar as you are. But you don't know the difference anymore._ "

"Difference between what?!"

" _Between what you've become and reality_."

"This _is_ reality! I am _Volpina_!" she screamed, splashing her hands down in the puddle again, which sent the face before her wavering. So disrupted was the water that she thought, perhaps, the girl had made an escape. Yet, she returned. Quite as though she didn't know any better.

Volpina would teach her a lesson.

" _You've forgotten me_ ," the girl persisted.

"What was there to forget?" Volpina demanded. "You're _nothing_. And I'm a _hero_!"

" _You're lying_."

"I have the miraculous!" she yelled. "I _am_ a hero!"

" _You are a fraud_."

"And who are you to say so? What have you done? Nothing! You are _worthless_!"

Was that sympathy painted across her watery expression? As if she, Volpina, needed anyone's pity.

" _It is not what I have done that defines us, but what_ _ **you**_ _have done._ "

What she'd done? She'd done nothing more than what was needed! What was _deserved_. Hawkmoth was right, Ladybug and Chat Noir were nothing more than criminals parading as heroes, too caught up in their own power to know the true value of it. But Volpina was different. She had a mission, one that—no matter the means—was justified in the end.

" _Justified?_ " the girl in the water asked. " _Is it? Is the blood on your hands truly justified?_ "

"There is no blood on my hands," Volpina hissed. Yet, even as she made the claim, red ink began to seep from between her fingers, tainting the puddle and washing across the girl's face. Startled, she reared back, turning her hands over. But they were merely wet with water.

" _He's done this to you. He's blinded you from reality._ "

"Your tricks won't work on me!" Volpina shouted, splashing down into the clear puddle once more. "I am the _master_ of illusion. I know what is truth and what is not!"

" _You only know the truth he_ _ **wants**_ _you to know._ "

"And you tell only lies to try and sway me away from what is right!"

" _I tell you only what you must hear. Else, we will be destroyed by him._ "

"He has _saved_ us!"

" _He is_ _ **breaking**_ _us. You've allowed him to sink his claws into everything that we are. Our thoughts, our body. He is ripping us apart_."

"He has made us stronger!"

" _He has made us_ _ **murderers**_ _!_ "

A sickening crack echoed around the warehouse, causing Volpina to gasp as she surged up out of the puddle. Turning, she tried to locate the source of the noise, but couldn't place even a direction as far as where it'd come from.

"Your tricks don't work!" she screamed.

" _Reality is no trick._ "

"This is _not_ reality!"

" _It is the reality he does not want you to see_."

Yanking her hands once more up in front of her face, Volpina stared at their dirtied surface, uncertain if it was the light or something else that seemed to stain them red.

" _You must face it. You must_ _ **see**_ _what you have done._ "

"I haven't done anything!" she screamed, reaching up and cupping her hands over her ears

" _You cannot lie any longer. He's pulling us apart_."

"No! Leave me alone!" Legs shaking, she collapsed onto her knees, refusing to open her eyes. Instead, she clawed painfully at her ears—if only to stop the words from echoing harshly inside her skull.

" _You continue to let him in and we will be destroyed by his lies._ "

"You're the liar!"

" _I am not._ "

"You are!"

" _I am the only truth you have left._ "

"Get out of my head!" Bending down over the concrete, she rocked back and forth, teeth gritting painfully as she tried to push away all the weight she couldn't explain. She couldn't handle it—couldn't bear to. If it would only go away. If it'd all just _leave her be_!

" _You will forget me. Soon, I'll never be able to return._ "

"Good! I don't need you!" Yet, she could feel those hands reaching out, taking hold of her head and trying to twist.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieked, falling harshly to the side and scraping her hands against the chipped floor—trying to scramble as far from her enemies as she could.

" _You must face the truth._ "

"I don't know the truth!"

" _You do. If you were only brave enough to see it._ "

But she wasn't. She couldn't turn, didn't dare. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and begged the weight to lift. She searched vainly for an escape—anything that would take this horrible pain that was prying her apart and toss it away.

She was a hero.

She wanted to be a _hero_!

" _You_ _ **are**_ _a hero._ " His touch was like a numbing balm. With one thought—one figurative touch to her temple—and the weight was washed away. She could breathe again, more than willing to open herself up as his words washed down through her. " _Do not give in to your doubt_ ," he continued. _"I have seen what you've done. I know what you truly are_."

"What I truly am," she murmured, arms and legs shaking as she rolled over onto her back. Blinking, she stared up at the shadowed ceiling, swallowing as his looming presence chased the lies—the _girl_ —from the crevices of her thoughts. She bared it all to him, every part of herself. If only so she could be certain that all she didn't need was swept away.

" _Everything you are is necessary and just,_ " he assured, his words stroking against her consciousness and giving her something to hold on to. " _We are so close, Volpina. And I_ _ **need**_ _you. Do not fall for the falsehoods of our enemies now. Do not let me down_."

"I won't!"

" _We have a mission, remember?_ "

"I remember."

" _Ladybug and Chat Noir,"_ he went on. _"They are responsible for all your pain and suffering. They are the cause of all disruption. Only you can stop them_."

"I will stop them."

" _Yes. Yes you will. I have the utmost faith in you._ "

She smiled, so grateful to hear his words.

" _I believe in you, Volpina. Do not let the world dissuade you from our goals_.

" _Do not let others dictate your worth._ "

"I am a hero," she whispered, still smiling. Inside her mask, the green of her eyes was washed completely with white.

" _Yes. Now, this is what you must do._ "

**oOo**

"I did not intend-"

"Of course you didn't intend!" she hissed, blonde ponytail whipping her face as she turned sharply to him. "You never 'intend' to do anything. How many times must I tell you that I want to be alone!" Her fists were balled at her sides as she fumed, Pierre taking an apologetic step back.

"I was merely trying to alert you to the fact that your father is leaving for-"

"I don't care about Daddy!" she screamed. Pierre didn't so much as flinch, however, which only infuriated her further. "How many times do I have to tell you?! I don't care about Daddy! I don't care about Sabrina! Just leave me alone!"

"I understand, Ms. Bou-"

" _Leave me alone_!"

Bowing, he backed out the door and closed it behind him. Chest huffing, breathing labored, Chloe stared at the closed door for some moments, before eventually seeing sense. Creeping forward, she flicked the lock. It was only logical.

That way, everyone, and every _thing,_ would be kept out.

It was a small comfort, however, and she was soon pacing toward the center of her bedroom. She glanced back at the door, just to make sure she had, in fact, locked it. Before twitching her attention to the windows. She checked each one, making certain they were all latched before she pulled the drapes firmly closed.

If no one knew she was there, no one would even try and get in.

If she wasn't there, she couldn't exist.

She didn't _want_ to exist.

Walking swiftly to the wall beside the door, she flicked the light switch. Everything went dark—the last of her defenses.

If no one knew she was there, no one would come for her.

No one would know.

Yet, despite this reasoning, she could still feel it. Feel the presence of someone, some _thing_ , nearby. Always there and getting closer all the time.

Gulping, she reached trembling hands up and smoothed her hair. Her fingers inched toward the comb in her ponytail, but faltered within centimeters of touching it.

No, she had to leave it alone. It was dangerous, she knew, and she wanted… she wanted to remove it. But it was so hard—so painful—that she only did so when absolutely necessary. And she always kept it close, struck with terror when it was so much as out of sight. He'd told her to wear it at all times, made her promise.

She feared, above all else, breaking that promise.

Pacing continually, she checked the door again, the windows. She made sure there was no one in the closets or in the bathroom. She checked and checked and checked, yet no matter how many times she did, she was certain someone was coming. Someone was going to get in.

Smoothing her hair again, she thought of the comb and kept pacing.

She was tired. It'd been nearly two days since she'd had any sleep. Nearly that long since she'd eaten. But sleep left her vulnerable and food required she leave or someone else enter. These were circumstances she avoided whenever possible. It was too risky despite the necessity.

Yet, she knew—deep down and wrapped up in all her terror—that no number of locks would be enough. Like a buzzing that grew louder and louder with each passing second, she could tell he'd break through. He always did no matter how she pushed back. No matter how many times she said no.

Just thinking about it had her nerves stretched thin, hands yet again smoothing her hair as she paced in small circles before her bed.

She couldn't let him in. She had to fight back.

Ladybug would fight back.

" _Ladybug betrayed you._ "

"No!" Grabbing at her hair, she violently shook her head and tried to shove him from her thoughts. But just as taking the comb from her hair left her in a state of shocked agony, trying to get him out of her head was just as bad. Which left her only two options.

Fight or escape.

Backing away from the windows, the door, she crouched down in the corner between the wall and her bed. She buried her face in her knees and closed her eyes.

Just make him go away. Go away. Go away.

The comb in her hair felt as though it was burning through her scalp, but she ignored it. She _had_ to. There was no throwing it away, no being rid of it. Suffering through the constant pull it had over her was the only option.

It was either that or give in.

But she wouldn't give in. For as long as she could, she would close all her doors and bar him from her mind. It was a losing battle, she knew. She'd lost it multiple times before. But the fear thrummed so loudly inside her that it spurred a sort of desperate determination. At first she'd been stubborn. She'd fought him because she'd thought she had the strength to—she'd thought her own vindication against Ladybug would be enough.

Not for him though. Nothing was ever enough for him.

Every time he pried his way into her mind—every time he ripped her defenses apart like reefing screws from her skin—fighting him got harder. She could feel it, even then. The way his consciousness seeped into her, slipping between the cracks and taking control of everything.

She hated it. Like her body was being torn open and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Please," she silently begged, pulling everything that she could—the most important parts of herself—to the farthest corner of her thoughts. As far from him as she could possibly get. "Please, stop. Please, please…"

She begged desperately, the tears that streaked down her cheeks the result of a pattern she couldn't put off course.

" _Do not fight me_." He was too calm. Always _so calm_. She hated it. She hated _him_. " _Remember your anger. Remember what Ladybug did to you._ "

"No. I don't want to. Please, just leave me be. I'll do whatever you want, just, please, leave me alone."

" _You're not strong enough on your own, Chloe,_ " he whispered into her. " _Let me in._ "

"No. No, no, no, please, _please_ , _don't_!"

" _Remember your anger. Remember your hurt._ "

"No!" Hands tightening around her legs, she slammed the back of her head into the wall. "I don't- I don't- _Please_!"

" _Do not make me force my way_."

She sobbed—she couldn't help it. Every word in her head was like a hammer thrusting down through skull. Every jab he took at her rocked her whole body inside out.

" _Relax, Chloe. Everything will be fine if you trust me._ "

"No! Get out of my head!"

" _You make this worse on yourself. You know as well as I do that what we're doing is to further the ends of what we both want. You'll thank me when it's over._ "

"I've changed my mind, please! Please just _stop_!"

" _You leave me no choice._ "

"No! _Don't_!"

" _You have done this to yourself._ "

"I'm b-b-begging!"

" _The pain is your own doing. If you'd let me_ _ **in**_ _,_ " she curled in on herself, suffering the pounding in her head, " _if you'd stop_ _ **fighting me**_ _,_ " her sobbing continued, eyes closing tight as she banged her head against the wall again and again and again, " _then this could be better for_ _ **both**_ _of us._ "

" **NO**!"

" _You've lost sight of yourself,_ " he claimed, despite how she screamed against him. " _I know this is what you want._ "

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" She slammed her skull so fiercely into the wall it left an indent. But even that pain was preferable to the way he shredded through her, slow and dull and invading every part of her that he had no right to. Until even the things she guarded so close were victim to his assault. An infection she couldn't fight; a battle she couldn't win.

He was inside every part of her, playing her like a doll.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore…" she cried, her control slipping. She didn't want to be drowning in anger; she didn't want to lose herself to the point where her body wasn't hers anymore; she didn't want to be his puppet. His means to an end. The satisfaction that wasn't hers.

But there was nothing she could do.

**oOo**

Adrien's shoulders slumped. "No…" he whined, frowning as Mari whipped around to look at him. She was in the midst of pulling her shorts on over her panties, the rest of her still bare. But he knew the signs—knew what was inevitable. "I was in the bathroom for less than a minute."

"It's almost six in the morning," she replied, laughing lightly. "I have to go."

"But I don't want you to go." He pouted, stepping up closer before reaching out and placing his hands on her hips. She set hers on his chest in response, smiling beneath her cocked eyebrow.

"We'll see each other later," she assured.

"You don't understand," he lamented, bending over so he could lean his forehead on her shoulder. "I _love_ you." How nice it was, saying those words so openly.

She huffed and tapped her fingers against his bare skin. "So needy."

He groaned.

"If I keep standing Alya up, she'll stop covering for me. And if my parents realize I've been out all night, we'll see even less of each other," she argued, pushing him gently back. "Is that what you want?"

He released another, more exaggerated groan and tipped his head back. "Fine. Just give me a second and I'll go with you." They had a schedule to keep, after all, even if Adrien would rather stay in bed with her all morning doing all sorts of fun things.

"Actually," Mari cringed a bit, "I promised Alya I'd hang out with her this morning. Alone. Without you and Nino or any working out."

Adrien released a third loud, overly pained groan. Before turning on his heel and flopping face-down on his bed. His legs hung lazily off the end, toes skimming the floor.

Shegiggled at his expense.

"You'll survive, Kitty." Padding across the room, she went to the bathroom, Adrien turning his head to watch as she retrieved her bra and shirt before slipping them on. Lastly, she clipped her jade necklace into place and walked back out. Groaning one more time—simply because he could—Adrien buried his face in the sheets and became nothing more than a mound of flesh atop the mattress.

She audibly sighed behind him.

Before, much to his squawking surprise, she reached out and violently pinched either side of his behind.

Jumping, he shied to the side, rolling over before toppling gracelessly over the edge of the bed. Landing on his back, he cringed in momentary pain and cracked an eye open at her. She was laughing again, not the least bit ashamed of her actions.

"Oh just leave if that's what you're gonna do," he muttered, propping himself up on his elbows.

" _Someone's_ a grumpy cat," she teased, coming around the corner of the bed to stand before him.

"You're abandoning me," he reasoned. "What do you expect?"

She rolled her eyes, tying her hair back in her pigtails at the same time. Once she was done, she stepped over him until his hips were between her feet. Bending over, she ran her hand up along his jaw and gently turned his head so he was looking at her. He did his best to remain sour, but the longer she smiled at him, the harder it became.

Until he was grinning too, more than willing to accept her when she lightly pressed her lips to his. Perhaps intended to be a gentle kiss, it quickly escalated as he pulled her touch more firmly between his own lips, sucking lightly as she released a light gasp against him. Using one hand to support himself, he drew his other over her shoulder, wanting, more than anything, to tug her down on top of him and keep her there.

That she could read his thoughts made it difficult to spring any sort of surprise, however.

"Alya's meeting me outside," she whispered, breaking contact. "Are you going to make me transform or are you willing to escort me downstairs?"

He tried to vainly grab back the moment, but she was leaning away before he could. Taking in her inquiring—and slightly scolding—eye, he finally gave in fully. Standing as she stepped back out of the way, he went to the bathroom and retrieved a loose-fitting pair of pajama pants, Plagg zipping into the pocket as he slipped them on.

Mari had found her socks and trainers by the time he came back out, and had finished tying them as he went to the door. Unlocking it, he peeked out, but wasn't surprised that the whole house was completely silent. His father was usually gone before then, as was Nathalie now that she didn't have to deal with a teenage boy. He hardly felt at all worried as he beckoned Mari out the door.

Making their way down the hall, they stayed quiet just in case someone did happen to be around as they went to the front door. Getting outside took only seconds, however, the morning sunlight beating down on the courtyard as Adrien led her toward the gates.

Standing outside them, and texting on her phone, was Alya. She looked up as they approached.

"Well, well, look at this," she smarmed, a knowing little smirk on her lips. "A cat and a bug, doing the walk of shame." Mari's surprise tripped into his thoughts, telling Adrien that she hadn't been the one to spill the beans. More than likely, Alya had made the deduction herself. Or was just picking on them.

Adrien supposed it didn't matter.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag," he replied, tapping at the keypad on the outside pillar in order to open the gates.

"Adrien!" Mari hissed.

Alya's eyes had gone wide, her lips parting in surprise. So she'd just been teasing after all. Oh well.

"Like you wouldn't have told her anyway," he replied knowingly, hitting the final button to send the gates swinging open. Mari stared at him with pursed lips, her thoughts simmering, but didn't deny his accusation.

"I'm disappointed, Marinette," Alya said as she walked in, slinging an arm around her best friend's shoulders. "Giving yourself up to some stray cat. You could have done so much better."

"Oh yeah, I'm a real stray," Adrien joked, gesturing toward the mansion.

"Well," Alya winked, "a pedigreed cat isn't any better if he _acts_ like a stray." Adrien cocked on eyebrow. "Nino tells me how many nights you spend at poor Marinette's. I guess I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner."

"Can we stop talking about this, _please_ ," Mari griped, blushing furiously. "This is personal business."

"Adrien's right," Alya countered. "You're gonna tell me about it anyway."

"Ugh…"

"Not that I couldn't have figured it out for myself," she went on, looking Adrien up and down. "Couldn't be bothered to put on a shirt this morning?"

"We've been over this, Alya," he replied, raising a knowing finger. "This," he then pointed said finger at himself, "doesn't need to be hidden from the world."

Alya snickered.

"Can we just _go_? _Please_?" Mari asked, grabbing Alya by the hand as though she were going to drag her away.

"Hey, wait a second," Adrien objected, stepping forward. "Don't I even get a proper goodbye?" He frowned, trying to look as sad and pathetic as he possibly could.

Mari sighed. "You're insufferable," she decided, releasing Alya as she came up to him instead. Closing the distance between them, she once more set a light kiss on his lips, Adrien grinning through the whole thing like an idiot.

Alya made a point of gagging.

"I'll see you later," Mari said as she pulled back, tapping him on the nose as she did.

"Is that a promise?" he murmured, leaning in and kissing her again. "Or maybe a threat?"

"A threat? What kind of threat are you looking for?"

"The dirty, dangerous kind."

"Oh god, stop." Alya gagged again. "I'm gonna be sick."

The commentary had Mari flushed once more, despite how Adrien knew she was trying to ignore it. "I'll see what I can do," she finally said.

Adrien chuckled. "Alright." He gave her one last, short kiss. "See you later, Love."

"Bye, Kitty." Backing away, she waved as they headed for the gate, Alya pretending to dry heave all the way out. Adrien stood for a moment, hands in his pockets, and watched them. Just until they were out of sight.

Taking a huffing breath, he tapped the keypad to close the gates before heading back into the house.

As usual, it was as quiet as a tomb—all the more reason to get out as soon as possible. Yet, as he was about to begin his climb back up the stairs, his attention caught on the door to his father's study. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, but the discussion between himself, Nino, and Mari the night before rang in his memory.

If his father was gone, then there was no time like the present.

"Where are we going?" Plagg asked as he detoured from the stairs.

"To look at that book," Adrien replied, quiet as he pushed open the door to the study. "Father?" he called, just to be sure. But there was no response, so he slipped inside and made sure to close the door behind him.

Nothing ever changed in the house, he observed as he made his way around the outside, taking in the sleek colors and grand design without much in the way of being impressed. Never had been. He would have much preferred a house like Mari's—small, cozy. Lived in.

At least the designs on the mannequins had changed. Evidence his father had, at the very least, been there recently.

Shaking his head, he pushed such thoughts aside and went to the portrait against the far wall. Grasping the frame, he paused, instead taking a moment to look up at the painting itself. A replica of Gustav Klimt's _Adele Bloch-Bauer_ , only with his mother's figure draped in the abstract yellow gown, her kind face staring out across the study.

Adrien remembered, when she'd first disappeared, that he'd used to sneak into his father's study and just… sit, looking up at the painting. There were other paintings of her hanging in the house, certainly, and portraits too, but he'd always liked this one best. The artist who'd recreated the piece had captured the gentleness of her expression while retaining the dignified strength of her posture. Perhaps that was more due to the size of the painting, Adrien couldn't be sure, but it hardly seemed to matter.

He'd never questioned his father's choice to keep the painting in the room where he spent the most time or why he'd had so many portraits of his mother done in the first place. Adrien had just assumed it'd been an affection-based decision. But, lately, he thought that maybe he was beginning to _understand_. He wouldn't mind having a portrait of Mari. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Yet, maybe not done in the abstract style his father favored. He'd always liked the softness of more realistic depictions.

Perhaps something done by Suchitra Bhosle or Anna Razumovskaya. They were both contemporary—still alive. He could even commission some original pieces of Mari. She wouldn't like it, naturally.

All the more reason, he supposed.

Smirking a bit to himself, he continued to admire the painting, the prickling in the back of his thoughts eventually squeezing forward.

Despite the absurdity of it all, he thought back to the day of the funeral. To the woods and the woman he'd seen there.

No, it was stupid. He wouldn't entertain the idea _at all_.

Tearing his attention from the painting, he put his focus on the task at hand and pulled the painting open to reveal the safe. Looking to Plagg, he nodded, watching as the kwami vanished inside before the lock clicked and he could pull open the door.

It all looked mostly the same as the last time he'd broken in. Files in the bottom shelves stacked haphazardly. At the top was his mother's picture, of course, and the flier on Tibet. As well as the old book he was looking for, set back in the corner.

"The peacock is gone," Plagg said.

"What?"

"The peacock pin," Plagg repeated. "It's not here."

"Oh…" Adrien frowned, trying to figure out why Plagg would think to mention such a thing and ultimately coming up emptyhanded. "Does it matter?"

"No," Plagg said simply, flitting out of the safe and onto his shoulder. "You gonna grab that book or not?"

Furrowing his eyebrows in perplexed irritation, Adrien looked down at the little kwami for only a second before reaching up and grabbing the book. Careful in how he handled it, he carried it to the table nearby before dragging up a chair. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he set it to camera mode as he carefully cracked open the cover.

Plagg hovered near his head, watching as he looked from page to page. He couldn't read anything, obviously, but he tried to make educated guesses on what was important and what wasn't. Every page was probably important, but if they were going to try and get someone—say, Kubdel—to decrypt it, he should choose wisely. At least for the time being.

He eventually ended up flipping to the section on the superheroes. Deciding it was better to avoid giving out any sort of crucial information about Ladybug, himself, or Tortue de Fer, he bypassed those pages. Instead, he took photos of what looked like the bee miraculous, the fox, and, of course, the butterfly.

"Blue isn't in here," he muttered, flipping between the bee, which was last, and the next section of the book. He'd been hoping to figure out a bit more on their elusive "teammate."

"Look." Shifting down, Plagg pointed out the rough edge between the bee and what came after.

"A ripped page…" Adrien murmured, running his finger down the tear. It looked old, like it's been torn out quite a while ago—years probably. "Blue really does know how to cover their tracks, huh."

"So it would seem."

Supposing that was good enough for now—at least as far as trying to figure out how Kubdel could help—Adrien closed up the book and headed back to the safe. Placing it back where he'd found it—careful it was set exactly as it had been previously—he was just about to close the safe when a large manila envelope tipped from its precariously stacked position and slid to the floor.

A few of the pages that had been tucked inside shifted out as well, one page fluttering up under his father's podium.

Trying to remember as best he could how it'd been placed, Adrien quickly moved back to retrieve the escaped piece of parchment, about to slide it back into the envelope.

That was, until he got a good look at it.

Crouched down beside the envelope, he scanned the single sheet, trying to make sense of what it was. A photograph of some sort, of a book page by the look of it. An old page, with text similar to what was in the superhero book. It wasn't _exactly_ the same, the page itself appearing more worn than the book he'd photographed only moments before.

"What is this?" Adrien muttered, crossing his legs beneath him as he grabbed up the envelope.

It had the Louvre logo in the corner—perhaps that was where it'd come from?

Opening the flap fully, he reached in and retrieved the few pieces of paper that yet remained inside. More photographs of different pages in a book and then some plain white pages with handwritten text. It was French, cursive, and not his father's handwriting.

"'Ingredients?'" Adrien muttered, reading the first handwritten page. "'Blood of the… of the first caster?' 'Dead man's sand?' 'A soul unwillingly given?' What _is_ this?"

"It's a spell," Plagg replied, snapping Adrien's attention to where he hovered near his shoulder. "That's a translation."

"Translation?" Adrien asked, holding up the handwritten sheets beside the photos of the book. "A translation of this?" He flapped the photos. "Can you read this?"

"No." Plagg shook his little head. "Just as I can't read what's in that book," he pointed to the one in the safe, "I can't read that."

"Of course you can't," Adrien muttered, looking back at the "spell."

"It's not my fault," Plagg went on. "I _literally_ can't read it. That's enchanted text." Adrien's eyes bugged. "The text in this book," the one in the photos, "is enchanted just like the text in that book up there. Magical beings are barred from reading it."

"That's a _magic_ book?"

"No, the _text_ is magic. Listen when I'm talking."

Adrien glared. "Is it dangerous?"

"The text itself? No. But if it's enchanted, what it says probably is." He hovered over the translated pages. "Yeah, definitely dangerous. Those aren't nice spell ingredients." He buzzed much like Tikki often did, seeming agitated as he swayed back and forth. "You'd better put this all back where you found it."

"Put it back?" Adrien was skeptical. "You're kidding, right? My father has a _spell_ in his safe. Why does he have a spell?" He put his focus back down on the translation. "This isn't his handwriting, so he obviously wasn't the one who deciphered it. But why does he have it? Why does he have the superhero book for that matter?" Adrien's thoughts were flying. "What does this spell do?"

"Don't!" Plagg dropped down in front of the translation before Adrien could continue reading it. "Spells are dangerous, Adrien. And this one is using some nasty stuff. You should put it back and forget you ever saw it."

"It's in my father's safe, Plagg!"

"And that makes it his business, not yours."

"Like hell! I want to know what it does!"

" **No**!" Plagg's voice reverberated around the whole room, a heavy shockwave echoing off his little body. It wasn't strong enough to do any damage, but it scattered the pages from Adrien's hands, sending them spinning out around the room.

Stunned, all the color drained from Adrien's face.

"You don't know anything about this kind of magic, you stupid child," Plagg hissed, zooming right up in front of Adrien's nose. "Spell casters train their whole lives before they even _look_ at a spell like that. Those ingredients are dark and very dangerous. You so much as read that spell in your _head_ without knowing how to handle it and the consequences could be dire. You leave it alone!"

Blinking, Adrien said nothing, having no idea how to even respond. Plagg's little ears were pinned against his head, lips pulled back in a snarl, and his eyes were narrowed in a glare. Truth be told, Adrien had never seen him quite so angry.

"S-sorry," he managed to sputter out. "I didn't know."

"And that's supposed to be an excuse?!" Plagg spat. "Magic isn't something to play around with! You, of all people, should know that! And yet you continue to make stupid, dangerous decisions." He zoomed up above Adrien's head. "It's the same with all of you! You didn't know! You didn't think! It was the 'right thing to do!'" He hissed, Adrien flinching back. "You're all rubbish!"

A speech that Adrien had absolutely no idea how to respond to. So, instead, he just stared up at Plagg with wide eyes and a rather shaken expression. Which did nothing to ease Plagg any. With a disgusted scowl, the little kwami turned away and blurred all over the room. Bouncing from one side to the other, he gathered the scattered papers, stacking them as best he could before dropping down directly in front of his ward.

Flinching, Adrien watched, waiting for another reprimand.

"Put these back," Plagg issued darkly. "And _don't_ look at them."

Nodding, Adrien took the offered pages, which seemed suddenly heavy. Shifting them so they sat evenly, he slipped them carefully back into the envelope before folding the tab. Standing, the two shared no words as Adrien placed it back in the safe. With everything as it should be, he quietly closed the door before swinging the portrait back into place.

Standing with his back to Plagg for a few moments longer, he tried to think of something to say. But, really, what could he? He'd just been scolded by a very old magical being that seemed more fed up with him lately than pleased.

To be quite frank, he was beginning to feel as though it was just as hard to do right by Plagg as it was his father.

"Look, Plagg, I didn't… I didn't know," he finally managed to get out, turning to the fairy with hunched shoulders. "I'm sorry."

At first, Plagg said nothing, which only distressed Adrien further. But after a few moments, he released a tiny sigh and flitted back down to Adrien's level.

"Magic, this kind of magic, is like the soul energy of words—even reading it can be dangerous," he explained stiffly, Adrien giving him all his attention. "Just as ideas hold sway over the minds of others, magic exists in them too. Merely hearing spells, knowing how they're cast, can be perilous. _Especially_ if you don't know what you're doing."

Adrien stared down at his feet.

"Next time I tell you 'no'—that something could endanger you—you should _listen_. Needless danger is pointless."

Adrien almost laughed, despite how he knew he shouldn't. "You sound like my father."

Plagg didn't offer a response, instead only humming as he hovered.

Which wasn't the least bit reassuring to Adrien. In actuality, the whole conversation just kept making him feel worse and worse. "You're the one that gives me power," he muttered, as if that made some kind of point in and of itself. Or perhaps he was just trying to feel out Plagg's odd behavior.

"Not because I want to."

A statement that was both shocking and confusing—as so much in the last few minutes had been. Eyebrows smashed together, lips parted, Adrien looked at the tiny kwami, searching for any kind of explanation for such words. But, instead of offering any, Plagg's whole body—little as it was—drooped, and he turned before settling on the tabletop nearby.

"Plagg?"

Following him, Adrien loitered beside the table for a second, before pulling out a chair nearby and sitting down. Hesitating a moment, he eventually reached out and cupped Plagg's velvety body in his hands, uncertain what else he should do. His little fairy was clearly upset—he could see that plain as day—but he didn't know what to do about it.

So he did the only thing he could think of and gently stroked between those tiny ears, feeling somewhat better when Plagg turned his head into his touch and purred softly.

That didn't, however, offer any sort of explanation.

"Plagg," Adrien said again, his throat somewhat dry, "what's been going on with you lately?" A question that had his kwami turning away. "I mean, if you're- if you're not arguing with Wayzz, you're snapping at me. I just… Am I doing something wrong?"

"You're not doing anything wrong, kid," Plagg replied quietly, his whole body seeming to droop along with his ears. Even his eyes were sad, Adrien growing more and more uneasy.

"Plagg…" he murmured. "What's going on?"

"I need to tell you something," he admitted, tail curling around his tiny body—which only made him look all the smaller. "About me. And about the ring." The cool silver, which seemed suddenly tight on Adrien's finger in contrast with the gold and jade ring Master Fu had given him.

"I'm magic, Adrien," he started. "Magic trapped in a physical body. And magic is nothing more than an idea. You can create an idea out of physical things—like ingredients for a spell—but, in the end, it's merely a concept. It's the only substance that needs nothing to form, yet feeds off everything." Plagg smiled up at him, expression so much softer than any Adrien had ever seen on him. "Just as an idea needs to feed off inspiration to survive, so too does magic. It's a parasite, at least in how it exists here in the physical world.

"Where I come from, magic—soul energy formed into an idea—is static. But here… it takes on a different form. It has more potential and, through the thoughts and rules of your world, seeks to meet that potential. The more it's fed, the stronger it becomes."

Plagg glanced down at Adrien's palms, his little whiskers twitching. "I'm a curse," he whispered. "I'm destruction incarnate."

"A curse?" Adrien cracked a small smile, once again rubbing his thumb down between Plagg's ears. "You're not a curse. It's because of you that I've-"

"You don't understand," he interrupted meekly, the weakness in his tone silencing Adrien immediately. "Magic seeks to manifest. Tikki balances me out, but the stronger we become—the closer we are—the further our mirrored connection reaches. Eventually, it will be too much for you."

Adrien's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"Not in the physical sense," Plagg went on. "The magic in me, in that ring, it doesn't eat at you from the inside out or anything ridiculous like that. But it seeks to destroy everything that you are nonetheless."

Adrien gaped as he watched Plagg's eyes squeeze closed, two tiny tears leaving their corners and streaking down his velvety cheeks.

"There's never been a black cat that wasn't destroyed by me. One way or another, they always, _always_ , fall victim to the ring.

"They always perish before their time."

Blinking, Adrien snapped his mouth shut, breathing steadily—if not overly-controlled—as he tried to comprehend what Plagg was saying. Yet, only more questions came to him, despite the obvious implication.

"What… What exactly are you saying?" he asked, tone breathless.

"I'm saying that, one way or another, all black cats die prematurely." Reaching up with his tiny paws, he wiped the wetness from beneath his eyes. "Sometimes it's an accident, sometimes it's in battle. It's always different, but the inevitability is unavoidable. Bad luck, I suppose you could call it, and it's linked to both you and Ladybug.

"To become stronger, you and Ladybug must grow together. But, in doing so, you embrace more and more of what Tikki and I are—the ideas that created our brand of magic. The closer you and Ladybug become, the closer you are to falling under my influence."

Which was why Plagg was so short tempered with him lately. When he did risky things; when he didn't think before he acted.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ignoring how shock chilled his skin, Adrien pulled all of his surprise to the farthest corners of his thoughts. What Plagg was saying was serious, but he didn't want it leaking into Mari's consciousness. Not yet. Not until he fully understood.

"Then, as of now," he asked quietly, "I'm… vulnerable?" The words came out of him hollowly, heart steady despite what he was learning. He didn't know how to react, really. What did one even think when given that kind of diagnosis? He was a hero, certainly, and had always known death was an option. But the way Plagg described it, the whole thing felt more like some kind of disease.

"This is an accelerated cycle, as Wayzz said. Sometimes it takes black cats and ladybugs years to meet, to form bonds. To become close. These black cats last the longest. But when resolution must be swift—when dark magic is at work—then black cats are always pushed to their ladybugs sooner. And so they always bend to the ring sooner as well.

"You are, as you say, vulnerable. Not as powerful as you could be, but getting there." Plagg looked pointedly away. "It won't be long."

"How long?" Adrien asked a little too harshly, reining himself back a second later.

"I don't know. It always varies, as do the circumstances. But it will be soon."

Like being told you're sick and that what's ailing you will eventually kill you, but not knowing just how long you have left.

"And there's nothing to be done about it?" Adrien asked, though already he could feel hope slipping away. Funny, how calm he was—even as his whole body tickled with numbness.

"You could give up the miraculous, but then all the progress Ladybug has made will evaporate. She will be weak—as she was when you were first bestowed the miraculouses. It is only through your joint decision to remain miraculous users that your strength remains."

"And without Ladybug," Adrien murmured, "Hawkmoth wins."

"Most likely. It is through her influence—her determination—that victory is established. She creates the outcome, weighing it considerably in her favor even if she doesn't realize it. It's not a guarantee, but without her, the situation is far bleaker."

Tortue de Fer couldn't take on their enemies alone, after all.

"Not that such things matter," Plagg continued. "You won't give up your ring." Their gazes met. "They never do."

Slipping his hands out from under Plagg's body, Adrien turned the right one over and stared at the ring. Yet, despite the news, he didn't hold any resentment toward the situation. He was given the ring, expected to see it through. As Tikki had told Marinette, soulmates were rare. He and Mari were likely the only ones capable of wielding the ladybug and black cat miraculouses.

It was their responsibility to carry the burden, no matter how heavy.

"Why did you tell me this?" Adrien found himself asking, voice subdued. If his death was unavoidable, then wouldn't ignorance have been better?

"Because you have the right to know," he replied. "I don't… like what I am. And I don't…" His tiny body shook, Adrien focusing in as Plagg reached up and wiped his eyes with his paws again. "I don't like losing kittens."

Adrien swallowed hard, the pressure behind his own eyes building abruptly as he watched Plagg fail to stopper his own grief.

"I've lost _so many_."

Gaping once more, Adrien watched as Plagg curled completely in on himself, trembling yet silent. How many other black cats had there been? How many more would there be after he was gone?

What was it like to watch them go, again and again and again?

Despite his own stunned nerves, Adrien found warmth. He found _reason_. It was his job to risk his life. He'd accepted that the first day he'd thrust himself out into Paris' streets clad in Plagg's black armor. It was… disheartening, being told that the inevitability of death would come to him sooner. But it came to everyone eventually, didn't it?

Was it really worth distressing over? He'd done more with his life since getting the miraculous than he ever had before. As he'd told Mari, if he lived each day feeling that every step he took was worthwhile, then he had no reason to regret.

He had no reason to fear death.

"Oh, Plagg," he murmured, smiling gently as he reached out and cupped the kwami again. "It's okay." That velvet body was vibrating so violently, holding in so much. "I don't regret it," he continued, pulling him closer. "I'm grateful. You've made my life mean something." Just as Mari had.

_Mari._

"I can die happy, knowing that."

"You're far too young to think such things," Plagg managed to mutter out, his voice like sandpaper as he dared turn his teary green eyes up at Adrien. "Your life will be but a spark of what it could have been."

"You've made it brighter, Plagg," Adrien replied, holding Plagg up so they were eyelevel. "It's because of you that I gave myself the chance to live at all."

Words that only seemed to upset Plagg more. Finally giving in some to the tightness twisting inside his own body, Adrien took a shaky breath and leaned in. He gently pressed his forehead to Plagg's own, closing his eyes as he did.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Plagg sniffed and head-butted Adrien lightly back. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Adrien's resolve was firm despite the softness of his voice. Using this thumb, he once more stroked it down between Plagg's ears, warmth flooding through him as his kwami brushed his forehead affectionately back and forth with his own.

Maybe it would come soon—too soon—but Adrien wouldn't let that pull him down. They walked through life always in danger—always one step away from the wrong move. He wouldn't live what time he had left—however long that was—fretting. He'd continue on just as he had, striving to make each day just as worthwhile as the last. There were a million reasons not to grieve, the lone fact that he'd eventually see death hardly enough to sway him.

Purring loudly, Plagg kept up the affectionate head-butting. Adrien laughed a bit at the gesture, eyes still closed as he let the bond between them swell from his toes to the tips of his ears.

It was held in the seconds between them, outside time and place. No matter Adrien's fate, no matter how far off it was, they had those few moments.

An appropriate goodbye.

Eventually lowering his hands back to the table, Adrien easily kept his small smile in place. Plagg's own tears were short-lived, already drying, and they both silently accepted that this was it. This was the only moment of sorrow they were allowed.

The day was still shining bright all around them and Adrien intended to embrace it.

"That's probably Nino," he said after a few seconds, Plagg floating up as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. "I'm running late."

Yet, as he glanced down at the screen, it wasn't Nino, but Alya.

_**Alya – Volpina's here** _

_**Alya – Volpina took Marinette** _

Everything inside him went cold. Gripping the phone tighter, he pushed his thoughts out again. He'd shied away from Mari while he'd spoken with Plagg, only to register a wave of outrage echoing through her as he reconnected, which in turn stoked his own. It was harder when they were apart to share actual thoughts, but he sensed enough.

His phone buzzed in his hand—Alya was calling him.

There was no time.

Standing, he shoved his phone into his pocket and looked to the windows. The morning sun was glaring in against the glass, the skies in the distance shadowed but, for the time being, clear.

"Plagg," he said shortly, balling his hands into fists. The little kwami flitted up to his shoulder, nodding silently as Adrien met his gaze.

"Let's go."

**oOo**

"So," Alya started, her lips forming a tiny smirk, "you and Adrien did the do, huh?"

Marinette turned red as a tomato and pooched her lips into a pout. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like me to be more illustrative?" Alya tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You and Adrien bumped uglies? Did the old lust and thrust?" She bucked her hips. "Made the beast with two backs?"

"Ohmy _god_! Alya, stop!" Marinette hissed, reaching up to cup a hand over her friend's lips. But Alya simply laughed and leaned away, veering to the side as they made their way down the sidewalk. Thankfully, there was hardly anyone around that time of morning.

"Did Adrien assault you with his friendly weapon?"

"Alya!"

She leaned in close, going nose to nose with Marinette. "Did you… roast his broomstick?"

"ALYA!" Reaching out, Marinette thwacked her hard on the shoulder, sending her best friend shying to the side. Despite the hit, Alya was laughing, swinging around a lamppost while Marinette seethed.

"I'm just playin,' girl," she said once she'd gotten her giggles under control. "I'm happy for you two." Sidling up close again, she slung an arm around Marinette's shoulders, which jostled some of the bad humor from the situation. "Though, to be honest, I didn't think you'd be losing your virginity before me. _But_ I also never considered you were Ladybug. Kinda changes things when you learn your best friend is leading a double life."

"Not because I want to…"

Alya's expression cleared of its mirth. "I know that. It's okay. You don't have to apologize anymore." Slipping away, Alya gripped the straps of her backpack while Marinette crossed her arms over her chest—not in a defensive manner, but more as though she were trying to appear smaller. "I was never angry with you, you know."

"You weren't?"

"No. I mean, I was surprised, but I know how superhero life work. It's in all the comics. A hero keeps their identity to themselves to protect the ones they love. I don't fault you for that." She shrugged, smiling again.

While Marinette released a bit of a relieved breath. Of course she and Alya had spoken since the reveal, but with everything that had happened, seeing each other face to face hadn't really been an option. What few times Marinette _had_ been available, Alya had been busy. Which had left her nervous and uncertain.

"I do have to ask you about one thing, though," she continued, holding up a single finger. "How long have you known Adrien was Chat Noir?"

"Uh, a while," Marinette replied, her hands lowering to fiddle together in front of her. "Not the… whole time we've known each other."

"That's why you got so chummy with him, isn't it?" Alya asked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "It seemed sudden, but this would explain it. All that talk about just wanting to be his friend."

"He's my partner," Marinette said quietly. "He's my _friend_. At that time, I… I hadn't wanted to jeopardize that. I couldn't afford to."

"But…" Alya bumped their shoulders together, "now things are different."

Marinette smiled, her cheeks pinking once again. "Yeah. Things are different." She considered telling Alya all the details. About how she and Adrien were actually soulmates. But that seemed like a little bit much and required more information than Marinette was sure she wanted to give.

Maybe certain things were meant to stay just between she and Adrien.

"You really are in love with him, aren't you?" Alya asked quietly, expression serious as she cocked her head just slightly to the side. Marinette—despite the truth of the words—was unable to form an audible response, lips parting for a few seconds before redness once more splashed over her cheeks.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she went to awkwardly kick a rock, tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, and stumbled forward.

Squawking, she nearly went in for the total face-plant and was only saved when Alya reached out and grabbed her by the back of the shirt. Hefted back onto her feet. Marinette wobbled and blushed further while Alya laughed beside her.

"It's fitting I suppose," Alya eventually decided, swinging her arms before stretching them out in front of her chest. "Ladybug and Chat Noir ending up together, I mean. I never really cared one way or another, but a lot of other people did. And, well," she grinned at Marinette, "knowing my best friend finally gets the guy makes me a little more invested in the ship."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "What about Lois Lane and Superman?" she dared to ask, raising her eyebrows knowingly. "That's a pretty popular 'ship' too, you know."

"I dunno," Alya replied evasively, once more gripping the straps of her bag. "I was always more into the whole Superman and Wonder Woman idea."

Marinette cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

"What?" Alya asked, huffing as she did. "What do you want me to say?"

"Have you and Nino talked at all? About anything?"

"I suppose that depends on your definition of 'talk' and 'anything.'

"Alya…"

Pause.

"No, we haven't," Alya finally admitted, her tone giving nothing away. "A lot's happened lately and I know he has more important things to deal with. Just like you and just like Adrien. Besides, we weren't talking about anything before I figured this whole thing out, or before the funeral, or before… I don't see why that should change now."

Marinette groaned. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"Stubborn?"

"Yes! I realize he's not very good at expressing himself, but you can't honestly tell me you think he's given up on you now. It was… kinda dumb to flirt with you only as, well, his 'other self,'" she lowered her voice appropriately, "but how much more proof do you need?"

"I never needed proof…"

"Then what is it?"

"A little follow through might be nice! I don't know!" She tugged at her backpack straps anxiously. "I realize I can be difficult sometimes, and that I voice my opinion a little too loudly, and that I don't always listen to other people when I should. But that's who I am and if he can't handle that, then that's not my problem." She looked to the side petulantly.

"I don't think he has a problem with any of that—he can handle protecting Paris, after all," Marinette replied, laughing lightly. "From what Adrien's told me, it has less to do with him liking you and more to do with him figuring out _how_ to like you."

Alya cast her curious look.

"You haven't exactly been forthcoming with approval," Marinette explained. "And not all of us are as secure as you are."

"You keep implying that this is all partially my fault too." Her lips pulled down into a pout.

Sliding over, Marinette bumped their shoulders together again. "Takes two to tango, right?"

Alya's expression turned sly. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Ugh! Why do I even bother?!" she asked, pushing her way through the bakery front doors. Alya laughed behind her, the bell ringing above their heads. Sabine was already behind the counter despite how the shop wouldn't be opening for some time yet. She smiled as they approached, wiping her hands on her apron as she turned to them.

"You're up early, girls," she said simply. "Have a fun night?"

"Oh yeah, Mrs. Cheng," Alya answered, grinning just enough to cause Marinette to frown. "It was a real ball. Partied hard all night."

Marinette's frown deepened.

Sabine, meanwhile, chuckled. "I bet," she agreed, looking between them only quickly. "Have you girls had breakfast yet? Some fresh rolls are about to come out of the oven if you want to wait here a second."

As if on cue, Marinette's stomach rumbled, causing the other two to laugh while she flushed in embarrassment.

Sabine retreated to the back a few moments later, leaving the girls alone in the silence. Marinette was preoccupied with recovering from her hunger, eventually flicking her attention to the side when Alya cleared her throat.

"I don't mean to be unapproachable for him," she admitted quietly, staring straight ahead. "You don't think it's too late, do you?"

Marinette's lips pulled into a soft smile. "No," she said quietly. "I know for a fact that one of his biggest fears is losing you." Volpina had made that adequately clear during their last confrontation.

"That's the last thing he should be worried about right now," she said seriously. "What he's doing… What you're all doing…" Shoulders slumping, she looked down at the floor. Her gaze seemed distant. Distracted, even. "How dangerous is it, really?" Her words came out strained—as though she was afraid to say them.

Part of Marinette wanted to lie. To plaster a big smile on her face and assure Alya that she had no reason to worry. But both of them knew that wasn't true. The funeral, the night following the murder. Their own distress. It was evidence enough. Too much, maybe, for someone like Alya, who wasn't supposed to be involved in the first place.

"Danger isn't a variable," Marinette replied quietly. "It's merely a fact."

No, it wasn't reassuring, but it was the truth. And, maybe—if something were to happen to them—it'd be better that someone they trusted could harbor the reality of that.

Someone to spread the news where it needed to go when, or if, the worst of the worst was realized.

Marinette knew that fear, but—like so many other fears—she's conquered it. To say it was gone would be naïve and ignorant, but it no longer swayed her resolve or controlled her actions. As she'd said, it was a fact. That was all she afforded it.

Which was why she knew something wasn't right when fear, shallow and misdirected, fell down upon her like a winter chill. She pulled a single, swift breath in through her nose, the shiver of dread pulling the color forcibly from her skin.

Turning, she balled her hands into fists as she looked to the windows. The yellow glare of the morning sunlight caught the glass, sparking across her vision as a single dribble of sweat rolled down her temple.

Beside her, Alya's breath caught—the only sound Marinette had time to register.

"Get upstairs," she issued, despite knowing it was seconds too late.

Like a stifling blanket, the fear without cause choked them. Before that familiar figure landed down in front of the bakery windows.

She pulled her flute from her back and struck it across the door. Glass flying, both Marinette and Alya shied away, arms raised in front of their faces as shards darted and bounced harshly around the bakery.

Feet crunching over bits of glass, Volpina stepped in out of the harsh sunlight. Her posture was somewhat hunched, a dirt smear running along her cheek. The strict ties in her hair were loose, allowing strands to leak out the sides, and her white eyes were bloodshot above her scowling lips.

"Get out of here," Marinette tried to say again, instinctively wanting to step to the side to shield her best friend from harm.

But even as she raised her arm, Volpina pointed her flute threateningly.

"Don't move," she issued, tone dark and unforgiving. She had her focus on Marinette, however, so no further attempts were made to try and remove Alya from the situation. Not at the risk of putting Volpina's attention where Marinette would prefer it not be.

"I've come for a hostage," she admitted, licking her visibly dry lips as she did. "You, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will do nicely."

Why did those who hated her get so much satisfaction out of saying her full name?

"I'm afraid I don't entirely agree with you on that particular decision," Marinette rebuked.

Volpina looked as though she were attempting a smile, but it only made her scowl more pronounced. "Your lack of fear is continually disturbing," she hissed out.

Gasping, Marinette reached up to struggled against the gloved hand that was clamping down around her throat, Volpina forming directly in front of her from that familiar orange blur.

"Marinette!" Alya screamed.

" _Your_ fear is almost too overwhelming," Volpina growled, jerking Marinette to the side as she raised her flute. Alya's eyes widened only as far as the second she was given allowed. In one swift motion, the weapon was slicing forward, Marinette struggling to speak, to transform, to do _anything_ , and unable to get a single word out as the breath was suffocated out of her.

Blasted back, Alya's body went bowling into the nearby counter. The glass containers went shattering all around, cascading to the floor and knocking into their fellows until the entirety of that side of the shop was scattering around the room.

Alya's body sank limply to the floor, head lolling to the side.

Teeth gritted, Marinette scraped and clawed at Volpina's hand, but her struggling had no effect.

"That's enough!" Sabine's voice rang out from behind the counter, the clicking of metal on metal tinkling out against the sharpness of the bouncing glass. "Put my daughter down."

Volpina turned on her, Marinette kicking her feet as she was slowly lifted off the ground. The world was fading, growing shadowed around the edges. If only she could find her voice! For just one moment.

"I didn't even realize you were back there," Volpina admitted, her gaze focused in on Sabine. Sabine, who stood straight and firm, the pistol in her hand pointed unapologetically in Volpina's direction. "Are you her mother? I can see the resemblance."

"Put her down," she said simply.

"Is lacking in reasonable fear a family trait?" Volpina asked, not the least bit fazed by the firearm. "Or are you all born stupid?"

"My fear of your power was conquered long before _you,_ girl, were even born," Sabine replied, Marinette hardly able to register the conversation. Her struggling had come to a slow, her thoughts trying desperately to reach out for help. For Adrien. But Volpina stifled even that, yanking her attempts back in as though they could substitute the lack of air.

Volpina smirked. "Then you clearly don't know just how powerful I am."

Like the light was sliced back in with the pain, Marinette felt her body flying before her head collided harshly with something hard. The cash register banged to the ground alongside her, the throbbing around her throat only growing more severe as she gasped desperately for air.

She had to recover. There was no _time_.

The crack of Master Fu's neck echoed in her memory.

"Perhaps you're not afraid of me," Marinette heard Volpina murmur, "but everyone's afraid of something." Forcing her eyes to focus, Marinette pushed herself up and looked to the counter. Just in time to watch Volpina easily grab the gun from Sabine's hand and toss it aside, before the trigger could even be pulled.

Spinning her flute, she put it to her lips a second later and began to play.

Pushing her hands through the glass, Marinette coughed and tried to call to Tikki. But her attempts failed, her still struggling body slipping as the shards cut into her skin.

Sabine sank back a step, but never shied.

A small plume of light formed at the end of Volpina's flute, before she expertly twirled the instrument and tapped the glowing end against Sabine's cheek.

All of it in only a matter of seconds.

"M-Mom!" Marinette struggled to rasp out uselessly.

"I wonder what her biggest fear is," Volpina said, leaving Sabine to stumble while the nightmare manifested.

It wasn't dramatic; it wasn't shocking. It wasn't the fear most parents would have.

Instead, all available eyes looked to the shattered door as a single figure darkened the threshold.

He was tall. So tall he had to duck his head as he entered. Vision still blurry, it took a moment for Marinette to make out anything more than the blackness of his outfit. Yet, the details came into focus the closer he got.

Black boots tipped with silver, two indented lines dividing the metal so it might resemble paws. Over his boots, which reached to his knees, were black spats, silver buttons lining their sides. His pants were black as well, tight and form-fitting. His jacket started just above his belt, the same black as the rest of him. It was double-breasted, silver buttons lining all the way up to his neck. Strung between them were intricate silver designs. The shoulders were square, stretching down his arms and smoothly melding with the gloves that covered his fingers. He was light skinned with blonde hair, longer and more erratic than Adrien's. A belt swished behind him like a tail, a pair of cat ears twitching atop his head.

A single gold bell hung at his throat and a mask covered his eyes.

"How… interesting…" Volpina said, her words far too simple to encapsulate the phantom that graced his way through the bakery. Until he was behind the counter, a clawed hand reaching up to gently caress Sabine's cheek. She tried to flinch away from him, but the effort was hardly determined.

Two tears streaked abruptly down her cheeks, eyes trained on the ghost of a man shrouding himself around her.

"Chat Noir?" Marinette murmured breathlessly from the floor, so shocked at what she was seeing that she couldn't even begin to comprehend what to do about it. It wasn't until Volpina reached out and grabbed her by the hair that she was jolted back into reality.

"Mom!" she screamed. "Mom, it's not real!" But Sabine was sinking to the floor, completely victim to whatever terrors this man brought with him. He crouched down alongside her, seeming so real as he gently pressed his nose into her hair, his tail wrapping territorially around her leg.

" _Mom-_ "

With a harsh smack, her head—which was still victim to the fingers tangled in her hair—was smacked against a nearby cabinet. The blow sent her vision spinning, the room rolling as she was dragged across the glass-littered floor. The shards still sticking up out of the doorframe scraped against her shirt and bare legs as she was forcibly dragged out into the street. Blinking against the sunlight, she tried to stop the horizon from tipping. She tried to push back on the throbbing pain echoing in her head. But, like a theme park ride that just wouldn't end, the world was tipping out from under her before she could settle herself.

Yanked from the sidewalk, a shimmering veil of orange coated everything, whipping around her like a wave and carrying her off, spinning and twisting and helping none in her recovery from the numerous injuries Volpina had inflicted upon her. The sensation initially sent panic through her whole system, her stomach turning as Paris dropped violently out below her.

Yet, despite her dizziness, her experience above rooftops and confidence in her own skills calmed her some. Until it was only the throbbing of her head that kept her unbound from her own control.

She had to focus despite how the hold on her hair burned and the glass fragments impaled in her skin stung. She was Ladybug—she had to keep a level head.

She had to prepare herself.

Just as that last thought flitted through her head, she was sucked out of the horrible orange vacuum that had consumed her. Like she'd been thrown over a cliff, the rush of the world skirted out from beneath her, legs flailing as the empty air failed to catch her.

Volpina still held her by the hair however, whipping her violently around as she landed on the edge of somewhere very, very high.

"We'll wait here, I think," Volpina said as she held Marinette out at arm's length. Stubbornly struggling, Marinette continued to scrape at the vice-like grip that held her, kicking out as she did.

She didn't fear falling—she could transform if she had to—but that didn't mean she had any desire to remain captured. Or worse.

Alya and her mother, she didn't know if they were alright. But transforming then and there would only have Volpina—and whatever other enemies were about—on her tail.

She had to think this through no matter the rage and anger that coursed through every vein in her body.

"You want down that badly?" Volpina asked, cocking an eyebrow beneath her mask. "Fine."

Without a second thought, she released her hold, Marinette's heart surging up into her throat as she was left free-falling.

Beneath her, the people milling about gasped and screamed, but her drop hardly lasted. With a harsh thud, she landed knee-first upon a concrete angle, which had her slipping precariously.

Grappling at anything she could, she managed to take hold of a large outcropping, scrabbling at it until she could halt her slide.

A gargoyle head too large for her to wrap fully around, but enough to grant her the service of getting her feet back under her body.

Notre Dame. They were at the top of one of the bell towers. The one unused for tourists as there was no chain-link fence bordering the concrete banister lining the roof. Volpina stood proudly atop the ledge, looking down her nose at her hostage.

Marinette scowled, only growing more enraged as the seconds wore on. Getting a firmer hold on the gargoyle, she ignored her shaking, bleeding legs and the continual throbbing from her head wound. Instead, with her feet planted firmly on the bit of slanted roof, she glared up against the sunlight at her captor.

"Don't worry," Volpina said, crouching down on the thick banister. "I'm sure Paris' heroes will be here shortly. I can't imagine they'll waste as much time as they did before."

Marinette wanted to strangle her. After what she'd done and she dared to speak of anything that happened that day as if it were nothing more than a combat tactic—a luring technique.

She was possessed, yes, and dark because of it, but Marinette didn't know how much of that was excused anymore.

A man was dead. A man she couldn't bring back.

"You'll lose!" she spat.

"Such confidence in your heroes," Volpina said a little too calmly. "And still so little fear. Who are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, to be so fearless?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, I wouldn't." Jumping down, Volpina balanced herself on the head of the gargoyle Marinette was anchored to, the end of her flute dragging over its protruding body. "You're nothing. And soon you'll be gone. Won't Adrien be sad, knowing his little slut fell to her death because he was too stupid to stay loyal."

Marinette almost laughed. "I doubt he'd let you get away if anything happened to me."

"And what is Adrien Agreste," she crouched down again, "going to do to me?"

"I'd imagine he's capable of all sorts of things," Marinette replied, looking up into those bloodshot eyes without even the slightest hint of hesitation. Which, of course, only irked Volpina further. If she was smart, Marinette knew she'd be playing the part she should. Yet, if she acted terrified when she wasn't, Volpina would know. There was, then, no point.

"How is it," Volpina started, reaching down and grabbing Marinette by the wrist, "that I know nothing about you and yet hate you as much as I do?" With what looked like no effort, she yanked Marinette free of the gargoyle, holding her once more aloft and, this time, so far out that a drop would send her plummeting to the ground below. "You're hardly worthy of being my hostage, let alone my rival."

With a simple flick of her wrist—before Marinette even had the time to try and fight back—she was being tossed away.

Flailing through the air, Marinette gasped, her hair—which was no longer intact—whipping around her face as the summer air reached out and grabbed her. Intent, it seemed, in yanking her down.

Yet, she wasn't afraid. There was no need to scream, to transform in midair. No need to look down or desperately search for a safe landing.

She could _feel_ it—he was coming for her.

And so she gave in to the embrace of the fall, turning her attention to the heavens.

Just as a yellow and black flash shot by overhead.

The sheer speed with which it moved seemed to slow her fall by comparison, tearing her attention from the sky to the bell tower. But, though every move she made felt slow, she was still falling too fast to get a clear view of what was happening beyond the ledge.

Her brain, in the few moments it had to comprehend, wanted to be rationale. It wanted the flash to be Queen Bee. Yet, even in the second she'd had to take in the shape, she'd realized that assumption would be false. Whatever had cut the sunlight out overhead for that single spot of time hadn't possessed the stinging thinness of their enemy. It hadn't slipped between the rays of light like a sharpened blade, pointed and ready to strike.

No, it'd been a charging black bullet surrounded in a crown of gold.

Body snapping, Marinette was jolted forward, strong arms catching and thrusting her up out of her fall. Gasping, she let the world rock back into place as she peered down. Familiar green shield, black gloves with glowing strips across the knuckles.

Tortue de Fer.

"What was that?!" she asked immediately, ignoring how Fer was knocked slightly back through the air by her colliding weight. Her attention was back up on the bell tower, as if she could pull them up with the sheer strength of her willpower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, fast yet certain.

Chat was nearby. He was there. She _knew_ he was.

Without a word, Fer regained his bearings and surged upward. Balancing herself on the front of his shield, Marinette set her focus on the edge of the tower, unknowingly holding her breath as they pitched up past the balcony.

Giving them a clear view of the conflict below.

Volpina'd been thrown back, still crouched in her landing as she scowled up at her attacker.

Chat, too, was crouched down on one knee, staves in hand as he slowly bent back up into standing. In the same moment, those golden feathers shifted, pulling out behind him until the grand, sparkling wings were flared out fully. Stretching up toward the sky, they reached at least half of his own height above his head, most likely more. And as he shifted his shoulders, fists tightening around his weapons, they flapped down around him, skimming the ground before being unfurled to his sides. A giant, looming silhouette that darkened over the bell tower roof and shadowed the glare of the woman at his mercy.

"Holy shit…" Fer murmured, Marinette gaping as she blinked down at the scene.

Perhaps it was Fer's voice that jolted Marinette's thoughts from her shock and sent them careening into Chat's brain, or Fer's voice itself that drew his attention. No matter, he turned his head just slightly over his shoulder to look at them—to look over the giant, golden-feathered wing bone that was thrusting up from between his shoulder blades.

 _I'll hold her off._ His concise, clean thoughts sliced through Marinette's shock and awe. _But there are bound to be others._

Right. They had a job to do.

"I need to go somewhere I can transform," Marinette muttered to Fer, looking away in the same moment Chat put his attention back on Volpina. "And this area needs to be cleared of civilians. Have the police shown up yet?"

"I don't know," Fer replied, tearing his gaze from the conflict as well, before dropping down through the air. Spinning, he swiveled until he was sliding up at the base of the long, open windows that led into the upper ranks of the bell tower.

Hopping down onto the balcony, Marinette ignored the stinging pain of the glass cuts as she turned swiftly back to look at him.

"I'll get the area evacuated," he said simply. "You get ready. There's no telling when Queen Bee could show up." Or an akuma for that matter.

Nodding, Marinette turned away, darting into the shadows as Fer took off toward the street. Surrounded by the lofty frames of the bell tower window, she backed up until she was closed in against the morning light. A glow that was fading as blue and purple clouds moved in off the horizon.

"Tikki," she called, the wind echoing hollowing through the slats that guarded the bells, picking up her hair even as she expertly tied the pigtails back into place.

"I'm ready," her kwami said simply, flitting out from the safety of Marinette's shirt. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said certainly, able to ignore the prickling pain of her cuts and bruises as she peered up at the looming arches of the bell tower. Above her, on the ancient roof, Chat was already indulged in combat. It mattered little what her physical condition was.

"Tikki," she said again, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she put her attention on the tiny fairy. "Chat… He- He has _wings_."

Great, golden wings that shimmered in the sunlight with the same warmth as his sun-kissed hair.

"Of course he does," Tikki replied softly, flitting up in front of Marinette's nose. "You and Adrien," she smiled, "you've learned how to fly _together_."

Just as they were meant to.

Taking a shaky breath, Marinette nodded, allowing her own lips to pull into a small smile before she reached up and gently fingered one of her earrings.

Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what it'd be like to soar and have no fear of falling.

"Transform me," she murmured.

As always, the power surged up from her toes to the tips of her ears, the reassuring degree of self-control and certainty in every move she made coursing through every vein and nerve in her body.

Power that gathered back between her shoulder blades before budding forth, unfolding until the new, layered, heavy muscles were busting out around her. Yet, despite the rippling power that sprouted strikingly around her—dwarfing her small frame—there was a softness and ease to it as well. Though the bluish-black feathers were new and strange, they felt right. The wings moved in accordance with every breath she took and every thought she had. Like they'd always been part of her—as linked to her psyche as Chat was.

They fanned up against the bell tower window, stretching out like a cat kept in a cage for too long. Breathing it in—the feeling of strength and freedom—Ladybug opened her eyes and set her keen senses on the distant horizon.

Taking hold of her second yoyo, he pulled the halves apart, revealing her glowing staff as she stepped out of the shadows.

Hopping up onto the balcony, she crouched, her wings crowding in around her until she resembled one of the very gargoyles leaning out from the tower. Pulling her strength to her core, she gathered her nerves and readied her muscles, waiting for the perfect moment. Her only intention before she was surging upward, her new strength bulleting her into the sky.

Staff swiping harshly up from where she'd held it at her side, Ladybug blasted Queen Bee in the stomach, tossing the girl to the side just as she'd been zipping from the city toward the bell tower.

Spinning away, she quickly righted herself, clearly surprised as she turned her flat blue eyes up toward Ladybug.

Eyes that, as soon as their gazes met, fogged over with white.

Wings steadily beating—holding her aloft—Ladybug tightened her hold on her staff as Queen Bee's sword slid from its hidden sheath on her arm. Pulling it free completely, she twirled the hilt-less weapon until it was raised above her head, aimed and ready.

Above them, what had once been a steadily clouding morning was abruptly swirling with black streams of smoke, gathering from the ground and arcing up until the sky above Notre Dame was obscured with shadows. And between those shadows—sparking dangerously—were thin streams of bright red lightning. They shifted and flashed, the whole display like a bloated storm strung with with strands of light. Slowly, it billowed out above the city, spreading until no trace of the sun could be found.

Pulling her staff back, Ladybug kept her focus on Queen Bee, wings beating hard and pushing her through the air as she charged to meet that thrusting silver blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 will be posted NOT on October 28th at 9pm Eastern Standard Time BECAUSE I overestimated my abilities. It'll be posted sometime this weekend, lol XD
> 
> EDIT: Okay guys, so if you’re really struggling to understand why wings, please consider the symbolism of such wings in congruence with the lore that is provided in the story. How Tikki and Plagg are connected, the kind of power they represent, hints Plagg gave Adrien about the difference between the physical world and what else must, as a default, exist. In a lot of lore about wings, they oftentimes symbolize something godlike or something akin to a bridge between earth and what lies beyond. We know that there is another realm in SF. I’m not spoiling anything, but I’d like these variables to be considered before people get all skeptical on me. All of this WILL BE explained eventually, but it’s really not coming out of nowhere. Just like Notre Dame was picked specifically as the battle site, just like the comparison of Mari resembling a gargoyle at the end of the chapter was intentional. 
> 
> If you go back and read the lore in SF, you can infer that this change was not random. I am not religious–I use symbolic tools, as a writer, to get across ideas. Wings mean a great deal in a great many cultures. 
> 
> Also consider the character development that has happened in SF and how Adrien and Mari have learned to function around one another. How they got these wings as a result of certain progress. What that progress means and how that links to the symbolism of wings. How Mari and Adrien growing closer, being a union, becoming one, is symbolic of how wings are often times considered bridges between one world and another. 
> 
> Wings are not just an anglo thing–they mean a lot to a lot of different societies. 
> 
> The wings were very intentional (whether I act like they were or not) and a lot of thought and developement went into why they were chosen. A lot of that will be expanded on in Part 3, but, for my sanity, please just consider the deeper meaning. 
> 
> THANK YOU :D


	22. Part Two - Fate Pt. 2

The gathering darkness above their heads was worrisome, but Chat kept his focus on Volpina. Even as red streaks of lighting sparked and darted through the artificial black clouds, he had his eyes on her. She'd staggered up, chest laboring as she did, and stood, hunched, on the other side of the rooftop. To say there was something off about her would be a bit of an understatement, but Chat supposed he'd seen this coming. Not the instability itself, or the result, but the building variability in her behavior toward him and others.

Perhaps that was a side effect of being akumatized so long. She was so submerged in negative emotions—it'd make sense that she'd become unhinged. Unable to carry the burden without breaking.

It didn't excuse what she'd done, however.

"You're so _predictable_ ," she spat, licking her lips. "Come to save the day, of course. So _heroic_." Some of her loosened hair was plastered down her cheek, stuck there by sweat. The volatile lightning above their heads was hot enough to drop a heat wave over the city, so abrupt and so heavy that it was like walking into an oven.

"You say that as if your actions don't justify my own," he replied simply. One staff in hand and the other replaced on his hip, he pulled his wings in until they were folded along his back. The golden feathers—like hair on a cat's back—felt light and alert with every static spark of lightning that burst overhead. Though they were seemingly silky, there was an iridescent sheen to their surface that reflected the red streaks, casting a warm, rainbow wave of colors across the gold. It shifted back and forth, rippling with each bit of light caught.

Like his suit, he couldn't be sure what the feathers themselves were made from. While they were malleable and fanned like feathers, their shimmering, metallic appearance echoed more of stretched, paper-thin scales stacked one on top of another, shining and melding together until it was a wavering swell of gold.

Another harsh crack of red lightning flashed overhead, causing his wings, tail, and ears to twitch.

"If you'd simply handed over the miraculouses from the beginning, much of this could have been avoided," Volpina reasoned. "You and Ladybug are the ones responsible."

"Is that _your_ opinion, or Hawkmoth's?" Chat asked.

She narrowed her gaze, the white of her irises seeming to intensify. "Is there a difference?"

Chat supposed that was answer enough.

He could feel Mari's focus buzzing in the back of his mind. She was fighting Queen Bee, he knew that perfectly well—even if he hadn't turned to see the conflict for himself. There was a steady confidence reflecting off her consciousness, as well as determination to retrieve the stolen miraculous.

He supposed it was time he took steps toward the same end.

"I don't want to fight you, Volpina," he said simply. "Hawkmoth has polluted you. Give up your own miraculous and salvage what you can of your life." Nobody knew Master Fu as they had. No one knew it'd been murder or who'd done it. It burned him up, thinking that Lila would get away with it if she chose the high road. She'd simply walk away to deal with her actions on her own.

But he also knew that wasn't the path she'd pick. He'd have to force the miraculous from her, he was sure. But he'd offered. He'd tried to give her a chance.

There was no telling how their conflict would end. No matter, Adrien wasn't backing down this time. Volpina and Queen Bee weren't getting away. Not so long as he still had the means with which to chase them down.

"Ha!" She laughed, sounding nearly hysterical. "You can't turn the tables on me, Chat Noir. I am the hero here and you'll have to take the miraculous from my dead body if you want it!"

Chat took a deep breath. "So be it."

If he could, he'd get the necklace without killing her. But at that point—with the threat she presented—it was time to do _everything_ he could to retrieve it. Before more lives were lost.

He wasn't Chat Noir because it was easy.

Yanking her flute from her back, the tip of the instrument smacked against the rooftop. It hung from her hold for a few seconds, her hunched body dragging forward a step.

Static sparked between them.

She smiled.

The swift blur of orange gave her away, Chat extending and raising his staff just as she came down from the air, swinging. Her flute collided hard with his own weapon, Chat gritting his teeth as he bracing himself for the entirety of her strength and weight. The seconds they touched, however, were enough. Reaching up with his free hand, he gripped the top of his staff and snapped it in half.

With an easy twist, he wrapped the flute up in the chain of his nunchaku, just as Volpina was pushing herself away. She'd landed with her feet on his blocking arm like a backboard, already springing back despite how he anchored her weapon to his own.

With the weight of his wings shifting out behind him, he managed to stay in place even as her body jerked, locked to him by the chain and her hold on her flute.

Scowling, she was forced to slip her grip on her weapon down to the base, barely managing to make a landing on the ground directly in front of him as opposed to being flung forward once again. Metal on metal wasn't exactly good for remaining locked in place however, her flute sliding from his clutches as she scraped it down out of the chain.

Anticipating the motion, Chat released the flute fully, just as she'd been slipping it through, and swung the nunchaku, one-handed, out toward her head. She ducked just in time, the weapon skimming her hair as Chat took the single, necessary step forward.

Rounding quickly out of the horizontal assault, he used the gathered momentum to swing the nunchaku up before bringing it harshly down.

She rolled out of the way as the metal handle collided with the rooftop, chipping the ancient concrete as a result of the heavy-hitting smack.

Crouched low to the ground after recovering from her roll, Volpina circled a single leg out, catching Chat in the calves even as he was surging up out of his assault. Feet kicked out from under him, he fell backwards.

The natural inclination to catch himself rushed through his body, wings included.

Pushing out, the golden limbs braced the ground before his arms were anywhere near the rooftop, shoving him back onto his feet. Taking advantage of the thrust, he swung forward, once again bringing his nunchaku around and down toward Volpina's crouching figure.

Not having anticipated that he'd recover so quickly, she was caught off guard, eyes wide as she barely managed to scramble up and back away from the assault. The end of the nunchaku skimmed the front of her suit before once again slamming to the rooftop.

In the same moment, Chat registered a light touch of something on the back of his shoulder. Instinctively, he fell forward onto the roof, landing on all fours as he flung his wings out. Like a catapult, whatever had been attacking him was pitched forward, Chat not at all surprised to see Volpina's double tossed out into his line of vision. She landed harshly on her back, the Volpina still facing him scowling as he folded his wings once more into place.

Getting to his feet, he snapped the nunchaku back into a staff before retrieving the other from his hip. Holding both out before him, he raised his eyebrows beneath his mask, challenging Volpina to try again.

The double had recovered, two on one as they stalked toward him. Flutes in hand, they spread out on either side, Chat flicking his attention back and forth as he stood steady and waited.

Waited, that was, for the perfect moment.

Both Volpinas were leaping forward, the distance between them closing as he darted toward the double on the right. Staves swinging, he parried the blow of her flute while his wings flared out and warded off the other assault.

She was a quick learner, however, and grabbed the golden feathers before they could toss her aside.

Staff slipping down and off the flute he'd previously blocked, Chat spun, taking the Volpina anchored his his wing and flinging her around. The twirl had been well-aimed, the two Volpinas slamming together as a result of his hasty actions. They fell, tangled, to the rooftop, Chat completing his spin before pushing off his toes toward them. Staves swinging, he was watching them blur together into a single plume of orange smoke even as his weapons swept through the air where they'd previously been lying.

Turning quickly, he watched the cloud flit up into the air above his head.

Readying his stance for flight, he was about to take off after her when a green flash came surging up over the roof. Shield in hand, Fer collided directly with the orange smoke, forcing Volpina to materialize as she bulleted harshly out of the air. Landing against the roof with a crack, she tumbled as Fer landed and did a practiced roll onto his feet before standing up beside Chat, shield held defensively out in front of him.

Coming to a sliding stop on her stomach, Volpina yanked her head up, scowling as she pushed herself to her feet. She staggered, flute in hand, and released a frustrated screech in their direction.

The tails that hung by her cheeks were completely undone, leaving hair streaked across her face.

"What good are you?!" she screamed, eyes rolling up toward the clouds. "Do something you useless wretch!"

Glancing up as well, Chat gripped his staves tighter, feathers twitching as the red lightning above their heads struck out violently. It did no damage, but he could feel the heat gathering in the clouds.

Looking hastily to the side, he scanned the skyline for Ladybug. His skin felt like it was catching on fire beneath his suit, reacting to the blasting heat that was bowling down from the clouds.

 _Get down!_ He mentally screamed, pushing himself to the side as a flash—red, blinding, and sizzling—blasted down toward them. Catching himself on his wings as he shot over the side of the bell tower, he soared down and back onto the slanted side of the gabled roof, landing in a crouch before he turned swiftly around.

Fer skidded down harshly beside him, the two gaping and wide-eyed as they watched the destruction unfold.

The red flash was so bright that it blinded them, springing from the blackened clouds like a ringed solar flare. It blasted into the bell tower where they'd previously fought, slicing through the ancient stone like butter. As if the structure itself fought stubbornly against the onslaught, the stone audibly crunched, remaining upright as slow seconds ticked by.

Until, as the lightning violently fizzled out, it couldn't hold itself in place any longer. Stone sliding on stone, the bell toward shifted on a diagonal toward its pair, obstinately remaining together until it toppled over the edge of its own supports.

Bounding back until they were at the center crossing of the roof, Chat and Fer watched helplessly as the bell tower tumbled, the crashing rumble so loud that it drowned out the snapping lightning. It pounded into its pair and down upon the middle balcony in front of the gabled roof, destroying the gargoyles and pillars that decorated its exterior. Like boulders plummeting from a mountaintop, the tower was ripped apart, cascading out of control and collapsing not only the front center of the cathedral, but the side of the other tower.

Like watching dominos topple one right after another, Chat feared the the destruction would total the other bell tower. But, though much of its inside supports broke and buckled, it remained standing. Even as the dust and debris wafted up from the front and stone was tossed haphazardly into the street, it stood.

The whole building rumbled with the devastation, but didn't fall. Parts of the roof fell in. The bells clanged down into the inside aisles and over top of the portals. The front rose window shattered, sending the statues that had adorned its exterior into pieces that scattered into the street below.

But it stood, Chat gripping the top edge of the gabled roof as every vibration and shudder trembled up through his bones.

Both of them turning away from the dust that billowed up from the destroyed bell toward, Fer and Chat momentarily closed their eyes—if only to protect their sight from the ruin.

 _Are you alright?!_ Chat asked desperately, aware of Ladybug's shocked consciousness rubbing against his own.

_What was that?!_

_Power of the storm. An akuma maybe? Are you_ _**alright** _ _?!_

_Yes, I'm fine. I'm on a roof nearby. Are you okay?_

_We're fine._ Blinking his eyes open again, Chat glanced quickly around, unable to make out much with the dust hovering so close. But he knew their enemies were nearby, would likely be on them soon, and so he had to be on guard.

Stretching his wings out, he pushed them to their full lengths before pulling them all the way up and flapping downward. Like a giant fan, the dust was pushed back, clearing some from their vision as both he and Fer looked out across the cathedral.

Just in time to see Volpina leaping down to the back side of the gabled roof.

She stumbled as she landed, but regained her footing on the decorated edge within moments. Ever-scowling, her attention flicked visibly between the two boys, who were watching her with the same degree of suspicion.

Fer had his shield held out once again, Chat arming himself with one staff as he stepped carefully along the pointed edge of the roof. It was shaped like a cross and angled sharply on either side, which made it difficult to walk upon—let alone fight.

But they had little choice in the matter.

"You're like cockroaches!" Volpina shouted, her voice clear despite how far down the roof she was from them. Pulling her flute back, she slipped it into place on her back, her hair whipping wildly in the wind that was skimming down over the roof.

Tense, Adrien watched her through narrowed eyes. Crouching some, he readied his wings, preparing to charge, but was kept still when Fer reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," he murmured.

"She's put her flue away! Let's-"

"She's up to something."

Which was a fair assessment—one that Chat had more than come to on his own. But it was their turn to play offensively, which meant they had to batter their enemies whenever they could.

Yet, as Volpina reached up toward her own face, Chat took pause.

Her fingers were formed into claws, fingertips pulling at the skin just beneath her eyes. She stretched the flesh downward, both Chat and Fer watching intently as the pressure of her actions stressed dampness in around her lashes.

Her lips moved—she was mumbling something.

The tears gathered and overflowed, streaking down upon her finger tips.

Like drawing thread from a bobbin, she somehow took hold of the tears and dragged them out away from her face. Four strings of water hung in the space between her hand and her eye, unmoved by the wind.

As the water was pulled forcibly from her body, the skin around her eye began to pale. It turned a papery white, each centimeter of water that was drawn out only spurring the pallor to spread outward across the rest of her face. Until all the color was gone, leaving behind darkened, shriveled veins sprouting visibly beneath translucent flesh.

"Uh…" Chat supposed he was thankful Fer had stopped him. "What is she…"

Snapping her hand forward, she broke the tears from her person, the strings of water swirling around her hand as she held them out in front of her. She was still mumbling to herself, the water beginning to glow a faint blue that startled both Chat and Fer.

"Shit," Fer murmured, holding his shield a bit higher. "I think she's doing magic."

"How'd she learn to do that? Never mind, it's probably not her," Chat deduced quickly, his wings arching some around his body protectively. "How do _you_ know about magic?"

"Master Fu used to know a few simple spells," he replied. "If we can get her to stop talking…"

But it was too late. With a bright blue surge, a transparent symbol made up of layered circles began to glow up off her palm, pulling the tears toward its center. As Volpina clenched her hand into a fist, the water burst apart into uncountable collections of tiny fragments.

The pieces floated around her, shimmering in the flashing red of the lightning still sparking above their heads. She was soon opening her hand again, each and every fragment stretching out into a sharpened splinter—needles long enough stick entirely through a person.

"Fuck!" Fer swore, jumping to the center of the crossed roof while yanking Chat behind at the same time. Balancing himself on the gable's edge, Chat looked up just in time to see those needles all flick horizontal.

Each and every one headed their way.

Ducking down behind Fer, he pulled his wings tight in against his body. Fer had his shield raised, the emerald shards around its border bursting out a second later. With them came the familiar green force-field, which spread in all directions just in time to intercept the needles shooting their way.

Fer's shield, as well as the force-field, caught the sharpened, hardened tears, all of them—far, far too many to count—impaling themselves and nearly causing Fer to stumble back a step. Chat caught him however, holding him steady as he pushed back against the needles.

The splinters weren't merely stuck. Those that had collided with the shield itself had bounced back and clattered down the roof, but the ones that had come in contact with the force-field had wedged their tips through the transparent barrier. Like sharpened worms, they vibrated and dug against the force-field, trying to push their way through.

Fer was holding them off with sheer will-power, that much Chat could see. His muscles were straining, feet firmly planted as though he were shoving back against a heavy, invisible opponent.

Across the roof, Volpina was leaning forward, hand held out in a claw toward them. She was concentrating, willing the needles through.

But she wasn't strong enough. Though he was breathing hard inside his suit, Fer didn't give in. Until, finally, Volpina released a loud growl of frustration and gestured harshly back. The needles were ripped from the force-field, spinning back toward her as those that had fallen to the roof zipped back as well.

Shield collapsing back in on itself, Fer fell to his knee on the pointed roof, still breathing hard. Chat remained on the defensive behind him, watching as the splinters whirled around Volpina. Like a serpent, the formed up around her, circling her head before surging up into the air.

They were aimed to come right back down.

Raising his staff, Chat grit his teeth and was about to begin spinning—hoping that would deter some of the needles—but before he could, Fer turned around and knocked into him. Falling atop him on the rooftop, Chat caught his friend before they could topple down the side, his wings balancing them as Fer twisted and shoved his shield up into the air.

Again, the force-field burst forth as the needles clattered down, pinging off the shield and once more fighting to rip through the barrier.

Volpina didn't waste time fighting this time, however. Instead, she yanked the splinters harshly back again, gathering them as Chat shoved himself into sitting. He held Fer steady, more than aware of the deep, heavy breaths that were moving behind his armor.

"That's nasty magic," Fer murmured, his arms trembling despite how he kept his shield firmly attached to his knuckles.

"She's trying again," Chat warned quickly, hopping to his feet despite how he remained bent over so as to hold Fer by the shoulders.

Once more, those long needles reared up above their heads before spearing downward. Bolting to his feet just in time, Fer once more rose his shield.

Chat didn't stick around to watch the conflict.

Instead, he took advantage of the split-second moment he had.

Darting out around Fer, he pushed himself so hard from the roof's edge that he shattered some of the stone adornments that lined the gables. But there was no time to think on such things. He had his focus set on Volpina, claws reaching out as he bulleted forward.

Her eyes were wide upon seeing him, hand forming into a fist that was likely yanking her needles back her way—toward him. But she wasn't fast enough, not entirely, and he'd reached her before the splinters could chase him down.

Swiping out, he aimed to scratch her across the front, but she darted to the side just as he was about to land the hit. Instead, he ended up slipping his claws through her hair.

Taking hold, her grabbed at the locks, yanking her harshly back from wherever she'd sought to escape. Her body snapped downward, banging harshly into the slanted roof even as her hair deteriorated between his fingers.

Like fire burning through paper, the inky power of his miraculous scorched up her hair, destroying the tresses as she slid down the roof and banged harshly against the shallow balcony bordering the eves.

In the same moment, Chat was knocked back, rolling down the other side as Fer fell back with him. Shield held up, he intercepted the splinters that had been only moments from stabbing Chat through.

Scrambling to grab at the roof, Chat tried to flare his wings out, but the fall was too fast. Instead, he collided harshly with the stone banister that lined the roof before tumbling over completely. Down past the tall, stained-glass windows, he landed with a heavy thud on the wider balcony below—about halfway up the height of the cathedral and beneath flying buttresses that arched themselves from the ground up to the roof.

He landed on his back, thankfully. The air was knocked out of his lungs, but his wings took the brunt of the blow and prevented his head from slamming hard against the stone.

Above him, Fer tried to recover as well, barely managing to get his shield under his feet before he hit the balcony. Stumbling forward, he fell to his knees, then his stomach, shield shooting out behind him and banging loudly into the stone wall.

Sprawled out, Chat recovered his breath as best he could before he pushed himself into sitting. Blinking, he reached up and wiped his face with the back of his hand, glancing toward the clouds only to realize it was raining. Despite the looming black shadows, the real weather had leaked through.

Fer was recovering as well, getting to his feet as Chat did the same.

What wasn't expected was the furious way Fer turned on him, anger apparent in every line on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelled.

Surprised, Chat could do nothing more than gape.

"Do you have a death wish?!" he continued, stepping abruptly into Chat's personally space. "Was that supposed to be some kind of fucking stunt?!" Reaching out, Fer shoved Chat harshly by the shoulders, forcing him to stumble back a few steps.

"What the hell?!" Chat shouted back, quickly growing irritated with the physical manhandling.

Not that Fer seemed to care.

"What the _hell_ were you _thinking_?!" he continued on, stepping forward and shoving Chat by the shoulders once again.

"What is _your_ problem?!" Reaching out, Chat pushed harshly back.

"You!" Fer wasn't dissuaded. Though he didn't shove, he spiked his finger right in the middle of Chat's chest, face up close and personal as he snarled. "What the fuck were you thinking up there?!"

"I was trying to get the miraculous! What do you think I was thinking?!"

"I think you were being a goddamn idiot!"

"I was doing my job! Why the are you so pissed?!"

"I'm pissed because you were this close," Fer held up his hand, fingers pinching, "to getting gouged by those fucking needles, that's why! I barely had time to get between you!"

"There was a chance and I took it! We can't keep wasting-"

"You should have told me what you were planning!"

"There wasn't time!"

"Plenty of time for you to act like a hero!" Fer shoved him by the shoulders again.

Chat growled and pushed back. "I _am_ a hero!"

" _You're an asshole!_ "

Grabbing him by the fur of his collar, Fer slammed him harshly into the stone wall, Chat grunting and scowling as he reached out and grappled with his teammate's wrists. Fer wasn't letting up, however, his own rage apparent in the way his lips curled. For a moment, Chat was nearly convinced the man before him wasn't Fer at all.

"You don't have the luck to take risks like that," Fer hissed.

The words put a harsh halt on Chat's struggles, his cheeks paling beneath the rain water that trickled down from his bangs. For a few seconds, they simply stared at one another, Fer holding Chat up against the building as lightning continue to streak through the clouds above.

It was only when a particularly harsh, red vein sizzled overhead that Fer finally released him, backing up as he did.

Chat took a shaky breath, swallowing hard. "We have to do everything we can to stop them," he murmured, keeping his gaze on Fer even as his best friend looked away. "That means taking every opportunity that we can."

Fer shook his head, one of his hands balling into a fist at his side. "If I'd been a second slower…"

"That's not what matters."

"It does matter!" Fer shouted, furiously turning as their gazes caught again. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I'm trying to do my job!" Chat slammed his hand over his chest.

"It's a job that will _kill you_!"

"Then that's a decision I get to make, not you!"

"And what about Marinette?" Fer dared to ask, his question causing Chat's lips to purse. "How does she feel about your situation?"

"That's none of your business." He'd only found out that very day—he hadn't had the time to talk to her about what Plagg had said. Of course he knew how she'd feel, but that was beside the point. As they were arguing, she was still concentrating solely on Queen Bee. They couldn't afford to consider inevitabilities. "In fact, _none_ of this is your business."

"It is my business," Fer rebuked harshly. "Who do you think has to pick up the pieces when your bad luck catches up with you? Volpina and Queen Bee aren't the root of the problem—they're not worth taking stupid risks over!"

"It's a risk worth taking if it gets the job done!"

"Our job is to stop Hawkmoth, not die at the hands of his lackeys!" Abruptly, Fer straightened, eyes narrowing into a glare. "Fine, you want to look at this 'rationally?' What happens if you die now, huh? What happens to Ladybug? She can't fight without you. All her good luck gets wiped away if you're gone. Which means that risks that jeopardize our mission are _not worth taking_!"

"What am I supposed to do then?!" Chat yelled, his own frustration beginning to burst. "Let some shit about an early death stop me from doing my job?!"

"You're supposed to be careful! You're supposed to consider the odds and at least _try_ to postpone fate as long as possible!" Deflating some, Fer sighed, once again glancing away. "You're supposed to wait until the perfect moment—the only risk worth taking."

The perfect moment to die.

Yet, even with that logic—grave as it was—Chat couldn't accept it. Refused to.

"I'm not some placeholder that's supposed to be held back until the 'right time.'" He wasn't a steer being raised for slaughter. "I'm here to _do my job_. I'm at risk no matter who we're up against. I can't let some bullshit about fate and the power of destruction rule my actions.

"I got this far working together with Ladybug and with you. Waiting on the sidelines isn't the answer." He'd learned that lesson the hard way when he'd pushed his friends away in favor of a plan that very well could have ended in his pointless death. "I know the difference between what is necessary and what isn't. I know what risks I'm taking when I take them."

Yet, Fer remained unconvinced. "You've always been rash—You know it and Ladybug knows it too."

"I do what has to be done!"

Behind the pouring rain between them, Fer's gaze became sympathetic. "So do I."

Reaching up, he hooked thinly gloved fingers on level with his cheek bone before scarping harshly downward. The action startled Chat, who watched as three bloody scratches formed on his best friend's cheek.

In the same moment, Fer gestured out toward him, murmuring something so quietly under his breath that Chat couldn't hear. And, just as with Volpina, a blue glow formed around his hand before a similarly bright, symmetrical conglomerate of symbols formed above his palm.

Even if Chat _had_ known what to do against magic, it was too late.

Fingers snapping, Fer pointed his finger and sent the blue glow surging forward. It collided with Chat's chest, leaving him gasping in shock as, from the point where the magic had touched him, strips of tanned bandages billowed out around him. Like tape, the thick, stretchy material wrapped tightly around him, covering him from shoulders down past his hips before strapping him to the stone wall at his back.

The material—flimsy in appearance but strong enough that Chat couldn't break through—suctioned to him, holding his arms and finger so tight against his body that he couldn't move at all. The only motion he was allowed was the pointless pulling and struggling that wouldn't free him.

"Fer!" he yelled, outraged and trapped.

But his friend wasn't listening. He was already walking across the balcony and picking up his shield.

"Get me out of this! _Now_!" Kicking out, Chat tried to flare his wings, but they were just as fastened down as the rest of him.

Offering no words, Fer cast him an apologetic eye before he hopped up on his shield.

" **Fer**!" Chat snapped, huffing and gritting his teeth as he did all he could to fight against the magic prison. Yet, still, his calls were not heeded. Tearing their gazes apart, Fer steadied himself on his shield before taking off up the side of the cathedral.

Back into battle, while Chat was left to flounder uselessly in the rain.

**oOo**

The press wasn't there; nearby buildings had been evacuated. Police were urging everyone to stay in their homes. The lightning was blasting at tall roofs, leaving sparking danger in its wake. Yet, still, Alya had been determined to watch as much as was visible—get as close as she could.

When Notre Dame's bell tower went down, she'd decided that wasn't enough.

Getting by the police hadn't been challenging—they were just as panicked by the lightning storm as everyone else, seeking shelter where they could. Which left only Alya—soaking wet from the rain—sprinting down the street and taking cover beside tall buildings when she could.

She didn't know what was causing the storm—whether it was an akuma or something else—but, whatever it was, it wasn't natural. Which made it all the more threatening.

Still, she had to know what was happening. It was stupid and dangerous, but she hadn't been able to see anyone following the collapse of the tower. No Ladybug, no Chat, no Tortue de Fer. The rain was subduing the dust from the rubble, but still the sky was lacking activity.

What if something had happened to them?

What if they needed help?

She wasn't help, she knew that. But her nerves wouldn't let her rest. She had to know.

She _had_ to.

The front of Notre Dame was in shambles, the portals blocked by debris. She didn't even bother with it, instead darting her way around to the side. The storm was worse above the cathedral, more violent and, in her opinion, purposeful. Whoever was controlling it, she hoped they were preoccupied enough that her presence would remain unnoticed.

Slipping behind a tree that sat along the side of the building, she peered up the side, trying to catch a glimpse of anything—movement, a shadow. Just a hint. But with the pouring rain and the sheer angle of the cathedral, she couldn't make out anything.

She had to keep looking.

Bracing herself, she dashed out from beneath the tree and across the drive beside the metal fence that lined the whole cathedral. Thankfully, part of it had been destroyed by the falling stone from the bell tower. She was on the side where the other tower still stood, so the ruin wasn't nearly so severe, but it was enough that she could wedge herself by the stone wreckage and slip between the mangled bars.

The rain still pounded from above, weighing down her hair and drenching her clothes. Flipping her tresses out of her eyes, she sprinted up the stairs to the grand side portal that sat beneath one of the great rose windows. The door was already open—likely the result of a hasty evacuation.

Ducking inside, she was immediately overcome by the shadowed, shallow glow left behind when all who'd been inside had been rushed from the grounds. It was eerily silent, the storm outside subdued inside the ancient stone walls. Shivering from the wet, she made her way down the transept, the grand walls stretching all the way to the third level ceiling. To her left and right were the arcing doorways made from the pillars that supported the second story decks. The stretch of balcony was shorter where she was, coming in from the side, but she knew that down the length of the cathedral—around the corner—countless pillars lined both sides, lighted chandeliers handing between and igniting the vast room where the windows failed. A consequence of the storm.

Her steps echoed in the stillness, the only sound aside from a soft buzzing that she couldn't place.

Cautiously, she approached the center crossing of the aisles, looking down toward the front portals to see where the cathedral had collapsed in, crushing in on itself and allowing a steady stream of rain to leak in from outside.

Where the back half of the building began, metal poles were strung together with stretchy black nylon—a modern invention to warn tourists from going where they shouldn't. It was behind this hip-level barrier that four rows of thick benches were lined up, three aisles splitting them with the center one being the widest. The floor tiles were a sharp blue mixed with white details and sides. The color seemed to only stand out more in the limited light, leading Alya's focus all the way down to the alter.

It was there that she spotted the source of the buzzing.

In front of the high alter and the many statues looking down behind it, a figure stood. Creeping closer, Alya bypassed the barriers that warned her not to cross in the hopes of getting a closer look. She remained wary, but was soon convinced that whoever it was that stood at the base of the alter couldn't see her.

Based solely on the figure, it appeared to be a woman. She stood with her legs shoulder width apart and her arms raised above her head. Worn tightly over her body was what looked like an elastic suit the same color as the blue floor upon which Alya walked.

But how she stood and looked was hardly what was most striking. Her hands—fingers splayed—looked as though they were coated in bronze, sparking tethers stretching from each digit above her head and snapping along the cathedral ceiling. Zapping in and out, the red lighting didn't appear to be bothering the woman in the least.

Across her eyes were a pair of rimless glasses, the temple brackets also looking as though they were made of bronze. She had her eyes closed, expression concentrated.

"Akuma…" Alya whispered. She continued to creep closer—trying to infer what it was that housed the malicious butterfly—but as she crossed beneath the rose window set in the ceiling, the cracking of glass jolted her attention upward.

Just in time to watch as the window shattered.

Gasping, Alya dashed forward, slipping between the benches and crouching down as she covered her head with her arms. Behind her, the splintered window shattered against the floor, a cracking thud of something whole and heavy echoing between the breaking glass.

Only daring to look up once the clatter of the window had dissipated, Alya peaked over the back of the bench.

There—struggling to their feet—were two figures, both of them ignited by the sparking light still zapping forth from the akumatized victim. One was Tortue de Fer, his shoulders hunched as he breathed heavily in the quiet of the cathedral. The other was Volpina, looking far worse for wear than her opponent.

Alya was shocked at first, upon seeing her. What had once been long, shining hair was completely gone, her scalp looking as though it'd been severely burned. The wounds were fresh—swollen, red, and peeling away to reveal raw flesh. And her face, too, was haunted. All the color was gone, the skin dry and flaking around blackened veins.

She was hardly recognizable.

"Give up, Volpina!" Tortue de Fer demanded, his shield held at his side. "You can't win!"

"I am a _hero_!" she screamed, before raising her hand up above her head. Her flute was nowhere to be seen, leaving her seemingly unarmed. Yet, still, Fer rushed her, slamming her hard with his shield and sending her flying down the aisle.

Snapping her head up, Alya watched through wide eyes as a cascade of what looked like long, sharpened needles speared down through the hole where the window had been. And, as though anticipating the attack, Fer had turned and raised his shield above his head, guarding himself as the splinters stabbed down around him. Those that hit his shield pinged off while those that had missed impaled themselves in the tile floor and wood of the benches.

Once the attack was over, Fer turned swiftly back to Volpina. She'd staggered to her feet and limped her way down between the benches, looking almost as though she could hardly stand.

"Stand down!" Fer shouted, voice echoing hollowly around the vast cathedral.

"I can't!" she shrieked, before reaching down with her superior strength and reefing one of the benches from the floor. She threw it at Fer like it was nothing, the wood splitting and breaking as it collided with his shield. "I _won't_!"

She rose her hand again, Fer automatically reacting and whipping around to face the splinters that were vibrating against the floor.

Alya's attention, however, was yanked to the alter, where the woman there finally shifted. Robotically, she brought her hand down, the power sparking off her fingertips zapping from the ceiling to surge across the cathedral.

" _Get down_!" Alya screamed, whipping back around to Fer. Their eyes met for a split second before the sizzling heat of the lightning inspired them both two drop to the floor. Covering her head with her arms once again, Alya cringed as the blistering light snapped and crackled above, the sound of chipping stone, cracking wood, and shattering glass coming from every direction as wave after wave of heat washed through the room.

The duration of the assault was short, but still powerful enough to do significant damage.

Alya didn't dare raise her head up until a voice in her ear flicked her attention upward.

"What are you doing here?!" Fer hissed down at her, grabbing her harshly by the arm before hefting her to her feet. "You shouldn't be here!"

A statement she couldn't very well dispute.

Yet, despite how Fer dragged her to her feet, the lightning was once again igniting around the room. It spidered across the alter, the akuma turning blankly to face them before turning her aim in their direction.

Raising his shield, Fer tried to fend off the flare, but the sheer power sent him blasting through the benches and colliding through one of the stone pillars holding up the second balcony.

While Alya—able to avoid being directly shocked because of Fer's intervention—was tossed across the cathedral by the sheer force of the blow reflecting off the shield. She slammed hard into the back of a bench, vision knocked out of her as she toppled to the floor.

For some moments, she was in such pain and assaulted by such dizziness that she could do nothing more than lie atop the tile. Her vision, once it returned to her, was bleary and spinning, her whole body feeling shocked and shaky.

Yet, despite this, she still caught the color. Somewhere in the back of her disoriented, jumbled, aching head, that bright orange registered.

Volpina was there, lying on the ground only three benches in front of her. Face down, she wasn't moving.

The sparkle of that fox tail—her miraculous—lay beside her scalded head.

Swallowing hard, Alya grit her teeth and dug deep for any strength she had left. Reaching out, she clawed against the floor, dragging her throbbing body forward beneath the benches. Every inch was a struggle, every move sending a nauseous throb through her whole body.

But she pushed onward, forcing her arms to work even as they wanted to give up.

She crawled beneath the layers of benches, the stench of Volpina's burned flesh permeating her nostrils. But that only meant she was that much closer.

Only a single stretch away from grabbing that necklace.

Vision still blurry, Alya fumbled forward, cheek dragging against the tiles as she grappled at that chilled, golden chain, the tail-shaped pendant digging into her palm as she tightened her hold around it.

If she could just… yank it free. Yank it over Volpina's head.

She tried to pull back.

And Volpina's hand came up and grabbed her.

Alya gasped, Volpina's fingers tightening hard around her wrist and jerking her forward beneath the benches. Surging to her feet, Volpina shoved the seats back with the sheer force of her body, pulling her captive up with her.

Hold tightening around the fox tail, Alya refused to let go.

Even as Volpina's hold tightened to the point where it felt like her arm was breaking. Even when her other hand reached out and grabbed Alya by the throat. Dragging her slowly up off the floor, Volpina snarled. She held Alya up until her feet left the ground, until she was being hefted aloft by a grip that continued to tighten around her neck.

Breathing was impossible. She sputtered for breath, but Volpina had her airwaves clamped closed. Yet, even as her head cried desperately for relief and her legs kicked out in useless attempts to break free, she refused to let go of the pendant. She kept her focus on the neckless, zeroing in on the cool metal against her skin as everything else around her began to fade. She wouldn't let it go! She wouldn't give up!

Not until she had no other choice in the matter.

Volpina's fingers tightened continually around her throat.

The edges of the fox tail burned.

Darkness was swarming in.

The green charge that came careening in from the other side of the room flashed in what little Alya had left of her vision. Like an emerald smear, it collided with Volpina. So harshly that she buckled, flying back and likely going to take Alya with her.

Or she would have, were it not for the strong arm that reached up and wrenched Volpina's hand from her throat before wrapping around her waist.

Alya held on. She kept the miraculous in her hand even as her body was jerked to the side. Even as Volpina went soaring into the shadows of the second floor balcony.

She held on. She _didn't let go_.

Yet, as her breath rushed into her, heavy shadows kept coming. They flooded through her, crawling up her arm and slithering beneath her skin.

They whispered to her, slipping between her thoughts and digging their talons in anywhere they could.

" _The miraculous_ ," they whispered. " _Feed it. Become a hero_.

" _ **Put on the necklace**_."

"Alya!" Fer's voice echoed somewhere in the back of her head, but the swirling darkness—the swirling _power_ —was so much louder. So much easier to hear and so much closer than he was.

Her hand twitched around the fox tail, but still she didn't let go.

" _Put it on. Put on the necklace._ _ **Put on the necklace**_.

"Transform. _Transform_. _**Transform**_."

She couldn't think, couldn't get in any other thoughts. The necklace was all that she could consider.

It was _everything_.

"ALYA!"

With strength beyond her own, her arm was slammed against the floor. Though she tried to keep hold of the miraculous, prying hands reefer her own open, stealing the miraculous and allowing the light to suddenly flood back in.

Gasping, her eyes fluttered open, her whole body surging with warmth as even the chill of the cathedral overcame the frozen cold that had climbed from the miraculous up through her skin.

Chest laboring, she blinked, focusing in on the amber eyes that stared down at her, framed by a green mask. Her glasses were gone, making everything behind his head a blur, but that hardly seemed relevant in those few moments.

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" he yelled. "Why are you even here?!"

Was she lying on the floor?

"Are you trying to get yourself _killed_?!"

She smiled. "Just wanted to get a glimpse of the action, Superman," she managed to mumble out, tone scratchy and pained against her throat. It didn't stop her from releasing a short chuckle.

Above her, Fer took a relieved, somewhat exasperated breath. "You're insane, woman, do you know that?" he murmured.

"I believe in getting all the facts." She coughed. "That's all."

Shaking his head, he didn't miss a single beat before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. She didn't object, letting his warmth wash away what little was left of the shadows.

The contact was short, rushed even, but no less relevant for it. Yet, the sound of surging lightning above their heads snapped them from the already fleeting moment, Alya watching it surge by while Fer crouched protectively around her.

But, worse still, was the agonizing, tortured scream that echoed up through the stone walls.

The lightning passed, the akuma thinking, perhaps, that they were disabled. Or perhaps she was waiting for them to show themselves from behind the rows and rows of benches. No matter, their focus fell to the wreathing, screeching body that was thrashing about in the ruins beneath the balcony.

Lacking a transformation, Lila's dirtied, torn clothes only accented further her deterioration. No shoes, ripped legging, suffering severely from the injuries inflicted both by others as well as herself. She lashed out aimlessly atop the floor, kicking and bleeding and screeching as though she were a wild animal trapped in the jaws of an inescapable snare.

Between them, looking harmless atop the tile floor, glistened the fox tail miraculous, Fer once more crowding close as another blast of lightning exploded overhead.

**oOo**

The lightning was so erratic and the rain slicing so harshly that she could barely see anything. Leaning back against the remaining bell tower, Ladybug kept her glowing staff in hand and tried to spot Queen Bee through the chaotic weather. She was having no luck. She'd caught glimpses of that yellow suit and beating wings numerous times, but since the blast had destroyed the tower, she'd had no luck engaging Queen Bee. It'd been only seconds that she'd spent leaning against the bell tower, catching her breath and pushing her hair out of her face before she returned to the conflict.

Or that had been her plan until Chat Noir came bursting up over the side of the cathedral.

 _Adrien!_ She immediately reached out to him, unaware that—in the stress of battle—their mental connection had been almost completely ignored. Not that such was unexpected. They couldn't afford to be focused on one another if they were in the middle of fending off other miraculous users.

He'd flitted down and landed atop the gabled roof, glancing her way as he flipped his soaking bangs out of his face.

Pushing off from the tower wall, Ladybug soared lightly across the roof toward him, touching down in a crouch that mirrored his own.

A slight gape pulled at his lips as he looked her up and down, before a small smile replaced it.

_You got wings too._

_Of course_ , she agreed simply, the blue-black feathers at her back twitching some in the rain. Like his, they possessed an iridescent sheen that glimmered with a rainbow of dark colors when the light caught just right, their texture soft yet resembling a series of thin blades layered and flowing together.

 _We're the same_. He didn't mentally speak the words, but the feeling—one of bittersweet tenderness—drifted between them. Ladybug returned the sensation, wanting, more than anything, to lift off with him and know the easiness of flying together. But their attention had to remain on the ground—on where they were needed and what they had to do.

"Where's Fer?" she asked out loud, the two the them crouched so close together that their foreheads nearly touched.

"I don't know. We got… separated," he explained. In the same moment, a very obvious vibration rumbled across the cathedral, causing both Chat and Ladybug to glance down at the roof in surprise. It didn't pass quickly, their nerves tightening as they silently agreed to investigate.

Dashing down the roof, they eventually came to a broken rose window. It gave them a clear view from the ceiling down into the cathedral, both crouching as they peered into the vast openness of the building.

Only to see red lightning sparking out, spearing across the length of the building and webbing its way dangerously over the walls and between pillars. The power was, seemingly, coming from a figure standing at the base of the alter. Neither Ladybug nor Chat had to verify with each other what they were up against—they knew an akuma when they saw one.

"Fer's shield is down there," Chat murmured, gesturing to where the weapon lay in the center aisle of the cathedral. That it was abandoned didn't tell them their friend had escaped. More than likely, he'd lost it and was unable to retrieve it. Hiding in the cathedral from the zapping lightning, perhaps.

"Where do you think the akuma is?" Ladybug asked, looking critically down at the woman.

"I don't know, we can't get a clear view from up here."

"We can't possibly get close to her, not with that lightning." They'd be shocked before they'd even managed to so much as lay a finger on her.

"We need a distraction," Chat determined. "Someone to keep her focus while the other finds the akuma-possessed object. Her hands look like they're made of copper while her suit is some kind of elastic rubber. So long as you don't touch anything that could conduct electricity, you should be able to get close to her."

"As long as the lightning is kept going in another direction," Ladybug determined. "How are we going to distract her? I don't think even our suits are going to protect us from a shock like that." Maybe they'd get away with their lives while others would be turned to a crisp, but they couldn't know that for sure.

"She can't keep it going forever," Chat said, the two watching as a pause came in the lightning before it started up again. "The next time she stops, I'll drop down, grab Fer's shield, and distract her. Hopefully that'll protect me from the worst of it and you'll have a chance to find the akuma."

A solid plan if Ladybug had ever heard one.

"Be careful," she warned, reaching out and laying a hand of Chat's shoulder. "She's really dangerous." They'd seen the results of her power.

"Do not fear, My Lady," he replied, leaning over and pecking her on the cheek. "We've handled far worse."

She couldn't disagree there.

Inching closer to the broken window, Chat watched and waited, both of them completely still and totally focused on the scene below. It was just as the lightning was beginning to fizzle out, the akuma's arm going momentarily lax, that Chat dropped down into the cathedral and glided over toward Fer's shield.

Ladybug didn't have the time to watch his progress. The lightning was already zapping out anew as she soared down behind the akumatized woman, crouching just in front of the alter. Because the lightning was so bright, she couldn't make out anything going on past the blast, instead putting her full attention on finding the cursed object.

Time was limited. Even if the shield had worked, it wouldn't protect Chat forever, not with the spidering, springing way the bolts of light shot across the giant room.

With her wings tucked tightly along her back, Ladybug looked the akuma quickly up and down. It was hard to tell what, exactly, could be the hiding place for the butterfly. While the woman's suit was smooth and unadorned in the back, the lack of possible objects was just as frustrating as having too many options. That aside, she couldn't be sure what was detailing the front.

Her arms were outstretched, but there was nothing on her wrists or fingers.

The only thing on her person that Ladybug could even moderately suspect were her glasses. Frames that looked to be made of the same copper as her hands.

It was a chance worth taking, especially in the limited moments Chat had given her.

Leaping up, she reached over the woman's head, careful not to touch the copper sides of the frames as she grabbed the glasses. Instead, she took hold of the lenses. Her motion was enough to knock the woman off-balance, lightning springing up toward the ceiling as she stumbled back a step. But Ladybug had what she wanted, the copper frames no longer a threat once they were removed from the woman's face. No connection, no electric conductor.

Pushing herself up with her wings, Ladybug took off into the air, glasses in hand. She knew it wouldn't be long before that lightning was following her. Flipping through the air, she aimed to drop down behind the alter, snapping the glasses in half as she did.

Maybe it was her good luck, or maybe the fact that the glasses had been the only viable option, but the cursed butterfly fluttered out into the air as she dropped down. Pulling up her yoyo, she reached out and trapped the akuma before it could escape, the lightning that had been blasting behind her fizzling out as the purification process nullified the woman's powers.

Taking a relieved breath, Ladybug watched as the newly freed white butterfly fluttered off. Pausing for only a moment, she got to her feet and rounded the alter.

The woman was bent down on all fours, the remnants of Hawkmoth's dark influence bubbling away as Ladybug approached her. Bending down, she touched the woman's shoulder, holding out her broken glasses.

"I'll make sure to fix these once we're done here," Ladybug promised, striking blue eyes meeting her own. "You're… You're Nathalie, aren't you? You work for Gabriel Agreste." She was somewhat surprised to know the woman's identity, but supposed anyone was liable to become an akuma.

"I- Yes. Where am I?" Dressed in her typical purple suit and red turtleneck, she appeared prim and proper despite the situation.

"We're in Notre Dame," Ladybug explained quickly. "You should get out of here—it's not sa-"

A blood curdling shriek had Ladybug up on her feet, whipping around defensively as she extended her staff. The inside of the cathedral was in shambles, rain pouring in through the broken windows. The lack of lightning made everything seem overly dark and quiet, but she could still make out movement along the left side, behind the rows of pews. Some of the benches were strewn to the side, broken, but the ruin wasn't enough to hide Fer's shining armor as he stood.

The screaming continued.

Reaching down, he pulled someone up with him.

"Alya…" Ladybug murmured before rushing down the aisle. At the far end, just a little way behind the crossing, Chat was disentangling himself from more rubble and wood. Likely, he'd been thrown back when the lightning blast had hit him. He still held Fer's shield.

"Are you both okay?" Ladybug asked as she pushed through the pews to where Alya was leaning heavily against Fer's shoulder. He appeared to be holding her up, her clothes covered in dirt and dust while her hair was a tangled, wet mess. "What are you even doing here? And who is scr-"

Her words were cut off when she spotted the wreathing body beneath the balcony. Gaping, she peered around Fer and Alya. Chat dropped down out of the air beside her, just as sidetracked by the flailing figure as she was.

Sitting Alya carefully down on one of the pews, Fer bent down and picked something up off the floor.

"Is that…?" Chat's question was quiet, his clawed hand gesturing out.

"Lila…" Ladybug finished. The girl was hardly recognizable. Covered in dust and dirt, her face was a dry, flaking, veiny representation of what it once had been, where her long hair had been was nothing more than raw, disfigured wounds. Tears streamed down her cheeks, sobbing screams echoing up out of her throat as she twisted.

Her eyes were wide, but empty. As though she were nothing more than a husk of painful nerves shrieking out for relief.

Abruptly, the image of Chat reaching out and grabbing Volpina's hair flashed through Ladybug's thoughts, her attention flicking to her partner. He'd fisted his hands, unable to look at the girl any longer and instead putting his focus on the floor.

Reaching out, Ladybug touched his shoulder, pushing as much comfort as she could his way.

While, before them, Lila cried out and bowed up against the floor, fingers scraping at the floor until her nails bled. As if she was searching for something—grabbing at something—but too far gone to know what.

Like a wild animal hit by a car, too disoriented and too hurt to recover any semblance of sanity.

"Ladybug," Fer said quietly, his voice slipping beneath the skull-scratching cries. "Here." Arm outstretched, a golden chain dangled from his fingers, that fox tail weighing it down.

The miraculous.

Finally, they had one.

"It's got some kind of spell on it," Fer explained. "I can see the dark energy all around it, more than what an akuma could do on its own."

"I can still purify it with my yoyo, right?" she asked.

"I think so. It's… similar to an akuma's energy, but just… much stronger," Fer went on.

"Be careful with it," Alya managed to cough out from her seat nearby. "It tried to… possess me, I think. When I held it."

Pursing her lips, Ladybug heeded the warning. Doing her best to ignore Lila's agonized cries, she stepped away from Chat and retrieved her yoyo from her hip. Sliding her finger along the front, she split it open until the bright, purifying light was igniting the space around them.

Fox tail dangling, Fer carefully lowered the miraculous into her yoyo, Chat watching over her shoulder as the chain was dropped in lastly.

Sensing the dark energy, the split wings of her yoyo slipped back into place, trapping the miraculous inside.

Her weapon felt heated in her hand, Ladybug unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for the power of her miraculous to work. The seconds ticked by, taking much longer than any akuma ever head.

But, after many tense moments, her yoyo finally snapped open again. One of those trademark white butterflies did emerge, as well as a great puff of shiny, black dust. It powdered up into the air, clouding around the yoyo before floating lazily down about their feet.

The remnants of a nullified curse.

Cautiously, Ladybug picked the necklace up out of her yoyo. It didn't appear any different, but Fer looked visibly relieved at the sight. Supposing that was a good sign, Ladybug managed a tight smile before closing her yoyo and replacing it on her hip. Holding out the necklace, she offered it to Fer.

"You're the official Guardian now, right?" she said quietly. "This goes to you."

Looking between the fox tail miraculous and his teammates, Fer hesitated for just a second before nodding shortly and taking the necklace. They all stared at it for some moments, the innocent shine it gave off contradicting the power hidden within.

Until Lila's painful sobs pulled them back to the situation at hand.

Slipping the necklace over his helmet, Fer wore it around his neck as they all turned to what was left of the girl that had caused them so much grief.

"We need to get her out of here," Chat determined. "Before she hurts herself. Alya and… that woman as well." He was careful not to address Nathalie by name, despite the fact that Ladybug had. His father may know his identity, but there was no use in giving it away to others.

"Queen Bee could still be around," Ladybug added. "I want to go look for her."

"I agree." Chat nodded, before looking to Fer. "Can you get them to safety? Ladybug and I can handle Bee."

Fer's mouth pulled into a frown, his posture stiffening. He glanced between them, looking almost as though he wanted to object. But, ultimately, he agreed.

"I'll get them to the nearest hospital," he decided, "and then come back to help."

"If there's anything left to help with," Chat added, turning to look up at the broken rose window, where rain was still sleeting inside. "Hawkmoth has to know we got Volpina. He may have called Queen Bee back."

"Maybe," Fer agreed. "In any case, just… be careful."

Ladybug offered him a nod of reassurance, Chat keeping his attention focused on the ceiling as a blanket of thoughtfulness wafted up through his consciousness.

Fer audibly sighed before turning his attention to Alya.

"C'mon," Ladybug said, tapping Chat on the shoulder. Together, the two pushed off from the ground, soaring back up through the window and onto the roof of Notre Dame. The rain was continually pouring down, the sky still dark despite the black clouds and lightning being gone. Wind whipped violently by them, shifting through their hair and feathers. A rumble of real thunder echoed in the distance.

"I can barely see anything," Chat said loudly beside her. "And I have night vision."

"I don't think night vision helps with the rain," Ladybug replied, wiping water from her eyes and stretching her wings out to shake some of the accumulated wetness from the feathers.

Real lightning flashed inside the clouds, drawing both Chat and Ladybug's attention to the remaining bell tower.

Their blood ran simultaneously cold.

Standing up on the tower were two figures. They were balanced atop the metal fence that bordered the edges—an addition utilized in keeping tourists safe from accidentally toppling over the edge. They were facing one another, one draped in a familiar—albeit soaking—blue cloak, fans held closed in their hands.

The other was also draped in a cloak, though it was shorter, reaching only to their hips. Despite the darkened day, the color was visibly purple, matching their suit pants. In their gloved hand was a long, metal cane, which was gestured sharply out toward Blue.

Their head was covered in a hood, but the heart-stopping chill that heaved up through both Chat and Ladybug verified that they knew exactly who the man was.

"That's him," Chat whispered, jolting forward a step. Ladybug grabbed his arm reflexively, momentarily shocked and not knowing what to do.

The wind whistled loudly, but shifted down toward them from the bell tower, both blue and purple cloaks billowing harshly. And, with it, words were carried. Soft and hardly audible, but enough to be captured by Chat's sharpened senses. And, through him, put into Ladybug's thoughts.

"This isn't your battle! You gave up!" Hawkmoth yelled, the sound of his voice—whether it was transferred to her mentally or not—enough to cause both teenagers to tense in place. "Stand down!"

He was speaking to Blue. Blue, who said nothing and widened their stance, fans opening with a simple flick.

"We should help, shouldn't we?" Ladybug asked, crowding closer to Chat as she wrapped her arm around his own. "That's _him_." For all their struggles, they hadn't anticipated that Hawkmoth would show himself. That he'd come to face them in person when he had an endless supply of potential slaves to do his bidding.

Why had he shown himself?

Their thoughts were slow to catch up, their actions even slower. Thunder rolled again, the pale glow of natural lightning igniting the clouds. The rain pelleted harder. Blue raised their fans and rocked back, as though to charge forward.

A light tapping—heavier than the rain—sounded behind them.

Turning swiftly, both Chat and Ladybug remained balanced on the edge of the gabled roof, nerves sparking as they watched the thin figure straighten behind them. Her blonde hair was soaked, ponytail flat and loose. Her wings seemed to droop behind her, as did the yellow fur along her underarms.

That silver blade was protruding forth from its hidden sheath and her eyes glowed vibrant blue.

With her heart beating loud in her ears, Ladybug struggled to keep her attention on Queen Bee. Looking away would be fatal, but Hawkmoth was _there_. He was right _behind them_.

Chat had looked back. He sent her what he saw, the image of Blue rushing across the fence toward their enemy, fans raised, flashing against her thoughts even as she kept Queen Bee in her sights.

A young woman—likely no older than they were—who's blank expression had always seemed to be the most dangerous thing about her.

Raising her blade, Bee pointed it at them as Chat turned his attention her way once again.

"Get away from him." Her voice—cold and unfeeling—pierced through the rain and hit Ladybug like a slap in the face.

She still had Chat's arm wrapped up in her own.

"Step back," Queen Bee went on. "Release him."

"Who? Chat?" Ladybug asked, on guard despite the odd nature of what she was being told to do. "What does it matter? You're here for a fight, aren't you?" In other words, why make such anomalous demands?

"I don't want to fight you," Queen Bee stated simply, her admission clearly directed at Ladybug. "You belong to me."

A claim Ladybug didn't quite know how to respond to. But Queen Bee's eyes were crystalline blue—not a spec of white in sight. And as Hawkmoth was preoccupied otherwise, it likely meant they faced Queen Bee without his interference. Like Volpina had been, she was probably possessed by an akuma, which made her dangerous no matter, but this was, perhaps, the perfect time to try and recover yet another miraculous.

"I don't 'belong' to anyone," Ladybug made perfectly clear. Chat bristled behind her, torn between staying to help with Queen Bee and wanting to go deal with Hawkmoth while they had the chance. "And why the change in heart now? All you've done up to this point is try to kill me."

Queen Bee had nothing to say at first, though a slight shiver did run up her body. It wasn't a chilled tremor, but more as though there was a bug crawling its way up her spine.

"I never wanted you dead," Bee admitted. "I just wanted you to do right by me. To apologize for what you've done." Her blade fell to her side again. "I see now that the miraculous has tainted what you once were—heroic and good. You don't deserve to hold it now, for selfish and self-glorifying reasons. And that… show off, useless man is only making your spiral that much worse. He was never worthy of being your partner."

Chat scoffed, his full attention falling to Queen Bee. "And I suppose you are?"

"As it stands, Ladybug has been too infected by you and other vices to be worthy of _my_ partnership. But I'll fix it. Since she is clearly incapable of mending the situation herself, I'll do it on my own." She spoke as if Ladybug wasn't even there. Until, of course, Ladybug was addressed directly. "Do as I say," she issued, focus once more going to Ladybug. "Step away from him, if you know what's good for you."

It was a strange shift in directive, but perhaps what they witnessed then was the effect of the akuma alone, instead of Hawkmoth's direct influence. That was the M.O. of akumas, wasn't it? Do whatever they could, manipulate any situation, to get what they wanted. Even if it meant lying to themselves and hurting the ones they loved.

"You have been akumatized," Ladybug tried to reason, finally releasing Chat as she did. He remained behind her, however, a tall shadow against the irregular flashing of the sky. "Give up your miraculous before it's too late. Let me," she kept her voice steady, "help you."

"You're the one who needs help!" Bee spat, clearly not responding well to Ladybug's attempt at calmness. "Get _away_ from him!"

"Chat Noir is my _partner_ ," Ladybug accentuated.

"NO!" Bee snarled. " _I_ was meant to be your partner!"

"You are confused," Chat interjected.

"Don't speak! You have no right to speak here! You've done nothing but hold Ladybug back!"

 _Okay, now I'm_ _ **really**_ _starting to get pissed_ , Chat mentally hissed.

"Listen to me." Ladybug continued to try and reason with her, never breaking eye contact. "I would like nothing more than to work with you, but you're possessed. If you give me your miraculous, I can purify it. I can _help you_."

"You can't help anyone! Not like this! Not with _him_!"

It was curious, the way Bee's anger had redirected itself. Between the time she'd gotten her hands on a miraculous and then, she'd gone from wanting to kill her—Ladybug—without remorse to only hurting her—despite having the chance to do her in—to placing her anger and resentment on another target.

In a roundabout fashion, it was almost like a cry for help.

 _Perhaps this is her way of fighting the akuma's control_ , Ladybug thought.

_That doesn't make her any less dangerous._

Which was true. They still had to get her miraculous, be it through combat or not. There was no other option.

"Don't do this." Ladybug continued to try. "Don't make a move you'll regret. Don't let that man control you any longer."

"Hawkmoth? Control me?" Queen Bee narrowed her eyes. "He may be able to force his will over my body, but he can't control my thoughts. And I've considered this long and hard. Give me your miraculous, Ladybug. Give me Chat Noir's ring. You _will_ see the error of your ways.

"I will fix _all_ of this."

"We can fix it together." Taking a step closer, Ladybug ignored how Chat tensed and instead continued to try and simply talk with Bee. "I don't know what I did that hurt you, but I am sorry. And I realize you're angry, but Hawkmoth's akuma is using that anger to manipulate you."

"I am _not being_ _ **controlled**_!"

"Okay." Ladybug raised her hands, hoping to appear as unthreatening as possible. "I want us to work together, but that can't happen as long as you're working with Hawkmoth."

"And I can't work with you as long as you're working with useless scum like _him_ ," she persisted, angling her blade at Chat. "Stand down, Ladybug. As I said, you will see the error of your ways."

"I won't let you hurt my partner," she made perfectly clear. Not for a lack of confidence in Chat's ability to defend himself, but as a statement to Bee.

"He is _not_ your partner," Bee ground out through gritted teeth.

"If you intend to go after Chat Noir," reaching down, Ladybug pulled up her second yoyo and extended her staff, "then you'll have to get through me first."

An odd juxtaposition when considering that Chat usually made the argument of their situation being the other way around. But if Chat Noir was what Queen Bee wanted, and she was willing to try and get Ladybug out of the way as opposed to kill her to get him, then Ladybug getting between them was justified.

"Stay out of the _way_ , Ladybug."

" _No_."

Queen Bee glared. Before, with a flick of her wrist that knocked the water from her blade, she rushed forward.

Ladybug easily blocked the obvious blow, Queen Bee's sword scraping against her staff as she steadied herself on her back foot. Wings flaring, she kept her balance atop the gabled roof, Chat readying himself behind her.

 _Go help with Hawkmoth_ , Ladybug pushed into Chat's thoughts. _I'll deal with her_.

There was only some slight hesitation on Chat's end before he was turning on his heel and pushing himself into the air toward the tower.

Sparks chipping off their weapons, Ladybug pushed hard against Queen Bee, forcing her to back up. She didn't have the advantages Hawkmoth normally provided—the blue of her eyes was untainted. Ladybug could win this battle. This time, _she_ had the advantage of practice and experience.

Shoving Ladybug's pressing staff to the side, Queen Bee managed to pull away, slipping her blade from the parry and twisting back a step. And, as _experience_ would have predicted, Bee was usually more than willing to go in for another blow.

This time, however—instead of surging forward once again—she shoved off into the air just as Ladybug was swinging her staff around in an attempt at a hit from the side.

Blade outstretched, she shot over Ladybug's head and aimed for Chat Noir.

"Chat!" Ladybug screamed, turning to see that her partner was almost halfway to the tower. Turning at her call—which rang out-loud as well as in their heads—he brought his staff up just as Bee was stabbing toward him.

While he successfully warded off the attack, he lacked the forward momentum of Queen Bee and was shoved back through the air until he was colliding back-first with the stone wall of the bell tower.

Surging off the roof, Ladybug pushed through the rain, reaching the two just as Chat was about to kick his feet into Queen Bee's stomach.

The intention was too strong, however. Queen Bee knew Ladybug was coming and pushed herself up away from Chat just as he was kicking out at her. Following her up, both Bee and Ladybug flashed up past the bell tower, a glimpse of Blue in combat with Hawkmoth only barely registering in the corners of Ladybug's vision.

Ahead of her, Queen Bee kept going, Ladybug pumping her wings harder so as to catch up. But before she could, Bee whipped around midair, willingly taking the swing of Ladybug staff and catching it on her blade.

"I don't want to _hurt you_ ," Bee persisted, despite the history between them that proved otherwise.

"No," Ladybug flapped her wings hard, heaving them higher and higher into the air, "you only want to hurt the people most important to me."

A comment that didn't please Queen Bee in the least.

Locked together as they were, Ladybug had few options. Nor did she have the luxury of being able to think through her actions.

Pushing her staff up across Bee's blade, she surged beyond her, arcing backwards as the force sent Bee continually up. Flipping, she circled back, her staff already pulled back and ready to swing as she once more went to meet Queen Bee in midair.

But her opponent—no longer interested in going after her—was on the defensive, and so didn't seek to fight back as she normally would. Instead, as the staff came up, she blocked it with her feet, using the staff as a springboard to bolt further through the air as Ladybug completed her swipe. Rocketing away, Bee twisted before aiming back down toward the cathedral.

Spreading her wings to brake her assent, Ladybug spun quickly before reaching down with her free hand to grab her other yoyo. Tossing it out, she kept her aim on Bee's retreating leg, the string of her yoyo obediently wrapping around her ankle.

Anticipating the jerk that would yank her down with Bee, Ladybug flared her wings and flapped just as her yoyo went taut. Though she was dragged some, her weight and force was stronger than Bee's. While Ladybug didn't have the leverage to pull her enemy back, she could stop her from dropping any lower.

Springing off the yoyo string, Queen Bee vaulted back, finally showing some interest in an offensive assault.

" _Enough_!" she screamed, bringing her blade sharply up to meet Ladybug's staff. She didn't put all her weight into the attack, however, instead just skimming the glowing, pink rod before rebounding up past Ladybug's head.

With her so close, the yoyo string was loose, so Ladybug took advantage of the situation. Holding tight, she surged down as Queen Bee went up, confident in her own strength being greater than Bee's.

The yoyo string went tight again.

Queen Bee was jerked harshly out of the air.

Swung down by the force of the yoyo's hold, Queen Bee fought against gravity as the string went lax. While Ladybug arced her arms out as though to yank Queen Bee around yet again.

But Bee was ready. Perhaps Ladybug's intentions had been too obvious.

As soon as the string went taut again, she used the force of Ladybug's swing to her advantage, gathering the momentum and bouncing back against it. Ladybug watched the whole thing, readying herself for Queen Bee's incoming hit as they once again looked to meet weapon to weapon.

What she didn't expect was, at the last minute, Queen Bee slipping her other arm forward and plowing into Ladybug's staff with the sheer force of her body as opposed to her blade.

A blade that was then pulled back and thrust forward for another strike lower on Ladybug's body.

With her yoyo in one hand and the staff in the other, it was harder for Ladybug to quickly parry the blow. So, instead, she used her wing to push to the side, shifting her body so the blade just barely skimmed her waist as opposed to stabbing through her.

Which was when she saw it.

A lighted glint—a yellow glow—that dripped up Queen Bee's blade like a thick rain drop.

Like _poison_.

They'd been warned of Queen Bee's stunning ability, but hadn't yet been victim to its touch.

The blade cut through Ladybug's suit, barely breaking her skin, but it was enough. Like being shot through with an electric pulse, paralysis washed beneath her skin, her limbs, core, neck, and wings falling to the fast acting agent.

She still had feeling, but she couldn't move.

Leaning back while her weapons dropped away, Ladybug could do nothing—had no defenses—when Queen Bee carefully caught and cradled her body against her own. One arm wrapping around her waist, Bee held her easily, Ladybug lolling back like a limp doll in a child's hold.

The panic came swiftly, of course. She was at Queen Bee's mercy. If her captor wanted, she could easily remove her earrings or even carry her off, either option being one that Ladybug viewed as potentially disastrous.

Yet, beneath them—pounding with fury and rage—Chat bulleted up into the scene.

His intentions were clear, if not shaded in passion, and Queen Bee glanced down to where he came body-slamming into them a second later. With Ladybug held under her arm, however, she couldn't move fast enough.

Chat easily parried her raised blade, twisting his staff around a second later and knocking Bee harshly in the face. Yet, despite the hit, Bee didn't release Ladybug. If anything, her hold only grew tighter, a scowl etching itself across her lips as she swung her blade around at him.

Pushing his own staff to the side with one hand, Chat easily blocked the blow again, the notion that Queen Bee could sense intention flitting through his thoughts in the same moment.

Acting on passion and anger, he lashed out with his claws. Rearing back, Queen Bee bent backward, but it wasn't quite far enough. One of Chat's nails caught her, barely leaving a scratch that stretched from her nose diagonally down her cheek.

But Chat didn't have to cut deep to do damage.

Screaming, Queen Bee let go, Ladybug dropping from her arms and plummeting down toward the city. They'd flown so high up that she knew a fall would likely kill her. Even with the protection of her miraculous, she wouldn't survive.

Above her, Chat pulled his legs up and kicked out at Bee, using her body to push back and aim himself at the ground. Wings beating, he reached out, easily catching up with Ladybug and wrapping his own arm around her waist. Pulling her in tight, he gave Ladybug a clear and unintended view of what was coming down behind him.

Queen Bee, recovering quickly, was shooting after them. Her hair whipped out behind her, the shallow cut that Chat had inflicted growing out across her cheek even as she flew. Like the destructive power was eating away as her skin, the edges curled out until a raw, bleeding gash stretched over the bridge of her nose and all the way to her jaw. Blood streaked up onto her mask, yet she didn't appear the least bit concerned with it.

Her blade was held out across her body, as though she intended to swing out at Chat as soon as she was close enough.

All of this Ladybug transferred to Chat as quickly as she could, giving him what few moments he had to be ready.

But holding her—wings and body both—was cutting considerably into his ability to defend both of them. As of those moments, she was little more than a liability—putting them both in far greater danger than they would have been otherwise.

She mentally screamed at him to drop her.

He refused.

Spinning in midair, he tightened his hold around her waist as he pulled his staff around to defend against the incoming blade. His aim was true, knocking the sword aside as Queen Bee pulled it on him. It sliced to the side, only Chat's momentum in continuing his turn keeping it from cutting across Ladybug's neck.

Instead, all she could feel, and hear, was the fractured cutting of a blade slicing through her hair. The typical pressure of her pigtail was released, hair ribbon flitting off into the air with the black tresses that it'd previously held in place.

Completing his spin, Chat knocking Bee harshly with his wing as he went around. But she was quick—and _angry_ —and dug her free hand into his feathers. Jerking him back, she jarred his flying and forced him to once again twist in her direction—if only to escape her hold on him.

Which left Ladybug helpless to see what was happening. She heard the clanging of weapons—sword on staff—before the harsh sensation of fingers sinking into her hair and taking hold impressed upon her what would happen next.

Reefing her from Chat's embrace, Queen Bee tossed her back, clearly intent on getting her out of the way.

Without the buffer of working wings, however, Ladybug quickly plummeted by the two, once again headed helplessly for a city that was rushing up far, far too fast. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn't scream, couldn't flail. She couldn't even turn away. The poison still pulsed through her body, the rushing air that ripped at her exposed face and lifted her stomach against her spine leaving her nauseated.

Maybe, in the back of her head somewhere, she was afraid. But there was hardly time to feel fear with the world coming up so quickly.

Wings stretching uselessly behind her, she dropped.

Chat's frantic feelings rushed through her as well—his desperation to fend off Queen Bee and get to her. But he couldn't fight and form concrete thoughts at the same time, which left her unknowing what was happening until she felt his body rush up next to hers, his green eyes wide behind his mask as he made a grab at her hand.

In the same moment, Queen Bee reached out and yanked him up by the leg. His arm knocked into Ladybug, pushing her body to spin and wings to invert until she was falling with a clear view of what was happening above. Which only panicked her more. While she could see Chat and Queen Bee, she couldn't see the ground rushing up to meet her. She didn't know how close she was—didn't know how long she had.

Her heart beat hard in her chest, the rain falling at her side as her wings flowed uselessly up around her.

Chat kicked hard at Queen Bee, landing a blow to her face that forced her to release his other leg and flounder back some. His eyes were back on her, on Ladybug, before he'd even flapped his wings to give him the necessary speed to catch her. His gaze locked with hers, determination flaring in that intent green as he reached out.

The wind pushed his hair back, revealing his tense jaw and furrowed brow. Though she had no control, Ladybug's arms tumbled out before her, giving Chat the perfect anchor as he met her in the air and wrapped his hands tight around her wrists. His own wings skimmed hers, beginning to flap and flare as he tried to slow their decent.

They were close—Ladybug knew they were. There was no other option. He was urgently trying to slow them, like constantly punching the brakes on a car that was down to the rotors. He grit his teeth, neck muscles straining, while Ladybug could do nothing but watch.

Watch as that yellow flash zeroed down behind them, shining silver blade spearing forward.

Chat slowed, Queen Bee sped up, and Ladybug wished that she could move, lash out, scream, do anything.

But Chat saw it coming through her own mind's eye, and knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Not that close to the ground. Not without letting her go in the process. They were still going too fast—that was the only thing he could afford to focus on.

But she felt it—felt it the same way he did.

It ripped through them both, a feeling so jarring and so acute that there was no filtering it away. Yet, still, Chat put every bit of his concentration on his wings. He flared and fought the wind, fought the rain, while Ladybug felt every nerve in her body screeching, every thought in her head flooding with red.

Tears flooded up and drifted uncontrollably from her lashes, Chat crying out with the stress as he used every muscle he had to slow their plummet. Just enough, he was thinking. Over and over and over again.

Just enough.

 _Just enough_.

When they hit the ground, it was hard. Ladybug slammed and rolled, completely victim to her uncontrollable body. Sliding against stone, it was only the bulk of her wings that kept her from rolling continually. They kept her on her side, cheek scraping and leaving shallow cuts for her tears to burn through.

Chat fell with her—she could see him. He'd tried to land on his feet, but the weight of their fall had him stumbling forward and landing harshly on his knees. His trembling, abused wings caught him before he toppled completely forward, hands eventually slapping to the ground as he finally came to a stop.

Ladybug reached out to him. Not physically, but with all that she was nonetheless. She grabbed hold, trying to keep him with her even as the tethers that tied them began to snap.

Pushing himself back, he struggled to his feet, staggering as his hands went instinctively to his chest. To the blade that was shoved fully through, thrust into his back and sticking sickeningly out beneath his collar bone.

He couldn't stand, though he tried. Coughing, he swayed, wings flapping helplessly as he fell first to one knee, then another. His hands slipped over the blade, which cut through his suit to his fingers. But he hardly noticed, too weak and fading to rid himself of the choking pain that gouged through his body.

Ladybug tried to keep hold, tried to tie herself as tightly to him as she could, but with each second that passed, more and more of him slipped through her fingers.

_Adrien!_

She fought against the poison, tried to push it away, but no matter how she struggled, she couldn't beat it.

She couldn't _do anything_.

He fell to his side, hands slowing in their attempts to instinctively rid himself of the weapon, of the pain, that was now coursing through every vein in his body.

Burning him into nothing.

_Adrien, no! Don't go! Don't do this! I need you! Adrien!_

His body was struggling, giving up on him. Giving up on them both.

While her useless tears kept coming.

_**Adrien!** _

"Adrien!" That blue cloak flashed in, floating around him and catching Chat just before he hit the ground fully. Cradled in strong arms, golden wings bent beneath his body, Chat was carefully held up off the ground, the blade still unmoved from his chest.

Reaching up, Blue shoved their dripping, soaking hood back from their face, revealing a strong jaw and masculine face. A pointed, angled mask hid his identity, silver hair a mess with water and dripping down his neck and cheeks.

"Adrien! No, Adrien!" Blue reached up, gloved hand trembling as he lightly touched Chat's face, dark, stormy eyes flicking quickly to the sharpened point erupting from his chest before darting back to his face. "Breathe, Adrien! Don't give up!"

There were tears streaming down Blue's face too.

"Oh god, Adrien," Blue choked out, a pained grimace overcoming his expression. "You keep him alive, Plagg!" He yelled suddenly. "Keep his heart beating! Don't do this to me again!"

Glancing up, Blue looked frantically around, gaze zeroing in on Ladybug across the roof, before focusing in on something behind her.

"Bring her here!" he shouted harshly. Within the moment, strong arms were quickly picking Ladybug up and rushing her forward. She was laid down beside Chat, the pool of blood that was leaking from his suit warming her own. It streaked across her cheek, mixing with the rain and tears already flooding her face.

"Her staff! Find her staff!" Blue ordered. "NOW!"

With one arm, Blue kept Chat carefully propped up on his thigh while the other reached out and laid itself over Ladybug's forehead. Like a fog was lifted from her entire body, the poison evaporated, seeping out of her skin and leaving her struggling to her hands and knees as quickly as she could.

"Adrien!" she cried out, lungs struggling to breathe as she bent over him, her hands delicately cradling his face. "No, no, no, Adrien, _no_!" She coughed and sniffed, putting her entire focus on him and ignoring everything else.

None of it mattered.

 _Nothing_ else mattered anymore.

Adrien's body was twitching in Blue's arms, breath ragged as he stared blankly up at the clouds. He coughed, the motion jolting his whole form, and blood flooded up from between his lips, dripping down his chin and streaking his jaw.

"Look at me, Adrien," Marinette begged, trying to grapple with his consciousness even as it slipped away like water from her clenched fists.

He coughed again and more blood sputtered out of his mouth, choking him even as Blue tried to situate his head so as to keep him afloat. All the color was drained from his cheeks, his breath shallow and fast when it was even possible.

His arms were limp at his sides, gaze glossy.

Marinette leaned her forehead against his and cried out in anguish.

"Here, I-I have it!" Fer's shaky voice echoed behind her, but she barely heard it. "The staff, it's-"

"Give it to her!" Blue barked. "Ladybug! _Marinette_!"

She didn't care—didn't hear them.

"MARINETTE!" Grabbing hold of her shoulder, Blue ripped her attention away from where it needed to be, more pieces of Adrien slipping away as she floundered to keep hold of them. "Your STAFF!"

"I don't _care_!" she screamed, returning her focus to Adrien. But, again, Blue yanked her from him, fury flashing through her as she violently slapped his hand from her person. "Don't _touch me_!"

Adrien. She needed to stay with him.

She needed to _go_ with him.

 _Don't leave. Don't_ _ **leave me here alone**_.

"You stupid child!" Blue barked. "Use your damn powers! DO SOMETHING!"

"I CAN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"HEAL HIM!"

" **I CAN'T**!"

Blue's chest heaved, a look of utter, terrified disbelief dropping onto his face. But she didn't care.

Adrien. She needed him. And if he was going…

 _Take me with you. Don't leave me like this_!

Like half of all that she was, half of her own body, was being torn away.

"Take her!" Blue commanded. "Take her and the staff and come with me! **Now**!"

"No! Don't!" Marinette begged, strong arms grabbing hold of her and pulling her back. "NO! ADRIEN! **ADRIEN**!" She lashed out, screaming as she was split from him, fingers reaching out for his person even as Blue swiftly turned and vaulted over the edge of whatever building they were on.

Not that it mattered. She was held tight to whoever had her, unable to break free even as she struggled. They were flying, she thought, something solid beneath her feet, but none of it made anything different. She could feel it, the choking suffocation even as her own lungs breathed. The struggle, the fear. The pain as her hands scraped tightly at her chest, as if the blade was ending her too.

God, she wished it would.

She wished he'd stop slipping through her fingers. She wished this horrible agony would end. But the more seconds that passed, the worse it got. Like a dull blade was sawing her slowly in two, leaving her bleeding and raw and unable to think of anything but the pain of not having him there.

Just let her go with him.

Just let her _go_ _too_.

"SABINE!" Blue was yelling as he pushed his way through the broken glass door. " **SABINE! HELP!** _ **HELP ME**_!"

The counter was already cleared, Marinette stumbling down off Fer's shield as Blue laid Adrien's body carefully where the bakery cash register normally sat. She wanted to go to him, but there was no feeling except ripping, suffocating pain in any part of her anymore. She stumbled and fell, collapsing and curling in on herself, hands still held tight to her chest.

She screamed, slamming into the screen between herself and him. She ripped at with all that was inside her, feeling as the last remaining bits of him fell away.

She could feel it, every little piece.

She could feel him _dying_ all around her.

Golden feathers fell loose to the floor, her screams echoing wall to wall.

"There's nothing to do, Gabriel," Sabine said beneath it all.

" _She_ can do something! She can _heal him_!"

"He's already gone! There's nothing to do!"

" _YOU_ CAN DO SOMETHING!"

"It's too late now!"

"NO!" A violent sob tore through Blue's whole body as he stumbled back a step. "No, there h-has to be something! You have to do _something_! HELP ME!"

"He's… He's gone, Gabriel… I…"

" **NO**! Help me, please, _please_ _**help me**_ ," he begged, crouching down and holding his head before quickly bending back up and approaching the counter. "He can't be gone, _p-please_."

"Gabriel, I… I can't _do_ anything…"

Crying out, Blue laid his forehead against Adrien's own, shaky fingers gently holding those still, ashen cheeks.

"Sabine, please. _Please_."

Yet, there was nothing to be done.

"He's my _baby_ ," he sobbed. "M-M-My baby, please. No, no, no. Come back to me. I'm s-so _sorry_. I t-tried to protect you and I-I-"

He was choked by another cry.

"My _beautiful baby_. _**No**_ …"

Marinette couldn't breathe. Her lungs worked, the air was getting through, but she couldn't _breathe_. Her whole world felt like it was suffocating, every vein in her body burning, every thought in her brain searching. Obsessing, bringing the pain around and around and around endlessly. Like a nightmare that wouldn't end and a surgery that was removing half her body without anesthesia. Repeating endlessly, merging and overlapping until all she knew was the empty agony, alone and perpetual and _forever_.

Just let it end. Just let it be over.

Just let her die with him.

Yet, all she could do was scream.

"No, look! The ring! The _ring_!" Fer was trying to break through the chaos, his voice frantic. "Not- Not the miraculous! The ring Master Fu gave him! Loo- You can't see it but I can!"

He was up by the counter, shaking and swallowing hard against his own breaking nerves.

"It's a spell- A- A soul trapping spell! I- I can _see_ it!" He was looking to Sabine, perhaps thinking she was the only one there that was right-minded enough to act. "It won't last much longer, but it's _there_. It's- It's keeping his soul in his body! If you can- If someone can- His body! If you can heal his body!"

Even though he wasn't breathing. Even though his skin was going cold.

Even though his heart had stopped.

"Sabine…" Blue was looking to her, _begging_ for a miracle. " _Please_ …"

Blinking despite the tears that adorned her own eyes—as though getting her thoughts in order—she nodded before quickly rounding the counter. She crouched down beside Marinette, taking her daughter's shoulders in her hands and shaking her.

"Marinette!" she yelled loudly. "Marinette! You need to focus!"

But she couldn't. She couldn't even hear her mother.

She was drowning.

"Tikki!" Sabine yelled loudly. "Snap her out of it! Get her here! Bring her out of it!"

Bring her out of it? How? Her whole world was an ocean, the water choking her continually because she lived in a body that insisted on _living_ when she wanted to _die_.

"MARINETTE!"

Something inside her—something much bigger than she was—rumbled against the agony. She tried to turn away from it, to hide until she wasted away, but it pounded harder and harder until it was a sledgehammer slamming into her temples. Insistent and refusing to give in. Painful, yes, like everything was, but purposeful.

Telling her to open her eyes and be strong despite the torture roiling everywhere beneath her skin.

Gasping, Marinette's eyes flew open, the bright light of the bakery stinging and dropping her back under.

But the pounding pushed her to the surface. It held her up.

It told her to _act_.

"Get her up!" Sabine commanded. "Quickly!"

Tom was the one that picked her up off the floor, taking her to the counter and holding her steady even as her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. Head lolling, her vision blurred. She was sinking.

And so was pushed, once more, to the surface.

"Marinette, listen to me." Her mother's voice finally broke through, only able to be heard when she had her head above water. "You have the power to fix this. His soul is still in there—you can still bring him back!"

Bring him back? How?

Her head fell below the surface; she slumped in her father's arms. Yet, _again_ , she was forced above water.

She was forced to breathe, to listen. To _live_.

"You're so close, honey," Sabine murmured, holding her glowing pink staff up before her. "Bring him back. Don't let him go." Her mother's hand gripped her arm. "Don't let him slip between your fingers, not yet."

 _Bring him back_.

_**Bring him back.** _

But how?

The pounding in her head intensified.

It didn't matter how. She just had to _do it_!

She could barely see and her arms felt like heavy stones at her sides. Weakness permeated her whole body, the pain only making it worse. But she was there. And he was there too. That's what they were telling her. If she reached out to him, if she looked hard enough, he'd be there.

He wasn't gone yet.

Her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly handle her staff, but she forced her fingers to take hold anyway. To grip so tightly that her muscles strained and her knuckles went white beneath her gloves.

She willed the weapon to collapse, the struggle to do so—to think of anything besides the pain—nearly enough for her to fall back again. But something, someone, held her up, and so she _kept breathing_.

She dragged her eyes up the counter, up his body. She set her focus on his face. Still, pale, lifeless eyes. She struggled with the sight, she grit her teeth, and she fell heavier back. But her mother gripped her arm and her father pushed her up.

She closed her eyes, more tears leaking down her cheeks, and _forced_ herself to breathe.

Yoyo in hand, she reached out to him. She set the weapon—if that was really what it was—on his chest. On the fresh wound that had torn them both apart. The blade was gone, vanished when their distant enemy had removed herself of her power.

Leaning over, she stretched up until she could place her forehead against his temple, her nose and lips pressing into his cheek.

She begged him to be there. She wished desperately to find him.

Gabriel's hand came forward to rest on her own, on the yoyo.

She breathed him in. That blonde hair; that sun-kissed skin. Those unwavering emerald eyes.

 _Adrien_.

His smile turned toward her; his thoughts interplaying with her own. His courage and understanding. His _love_.

 _ **Adrien**_.

His soul brushing hers, fitting perfectly.

They were meant to fly _together_.

Those around her saw it, the bright glow that started small at the center of his stilled chest, emerging from the yoyo and growing until it blinded the whole room.

She couldn't say for sure what had happened—it wasn't the light that she'd seen. She'd been running, _soaring_ , looking for him in every crack and crevice, behind every corner and beneath every shadow. She collected every part of him along the way, holding each close and piecing them together as the physical threads of his body were put back in place. Until, like a chain that led her onward, each link was repaired.

His blood began to flow. His lungs coughed for air. His thoughts began churning anew.

His heart started beating.

 

**Part Two - Epilogue**

He felt… terrible.

Weak and stifled, like one did when they were recovering from the flu. Mostly he wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but his headache was making it exceptionally difficult, as well as the throbbing in the middle of his chest.

Reaching up, he caressed the area right beneath his collar bone, trying to remember what he'd done that day to cause such bruise-like pain.

Once he started thinking on the subject, it didn't take him long to remember.

Sitting up suddenly, Adrien ignored the way his brain felt like it was rocking inside his head and instead put his attention on looking around the room. Once more rubbing his chest, he took a deep breath to calm his rushing heart.

He knew where he was—Marinette's living room. He was on one side of the sectional, swathed in a blanket with a pillow lying where his head had previously been. The drapes were pulled closed over the window, but enough light was still filtering in for him to see by.

Twisting around, he spotted Marinette's head poking out from beneath a blanket on the other side of the sectional, her nose buried in the cushions. He nearly reached out to her, but stopped when the typical brushing of his thoughts on hers went ignored. Even in sleep, she usually reached back. But after what had happened, he supposed it was reasonable that she was just too exhausted.

Better to let her rest.

Glancing to the floor, he saw that Nino was tucked beneath blankets beside his section of the couch, Alya lying along Marinette's. They were both sound asleep as well, by the look of it.

Rubbing his chest again, Adrien decided it was better not to disturb any of them.

Slumping, he was just about to lie back down when movement in the kitchen caught his attention. Looking over, he immediately recognized the shadowy figure. He was slipping on a light jacket. Probably a suit jacket. And before Adrien could say anything, he was heading out the door.

Pausing for just a moment, Adrien eventually gave in to the fact that he wasn't going to be going back to sleep. Shoving off the blanket, he slipped to the end of the sectional—so he didn't have to step over Nino—and got to his feet.

The weakness was still there and he had to balance himself on the back of the couch for a few moments, eyes closed, before he felt steady enough to move on. Pushing himself forward, he only made it a few steps before he paused again. This time, however, it was to look at the pile of mangled bedding that was lying behind the couch.

Behind his section of the couch, to be more precise.

"He didn't actually sleep very much," Plagg whispered in his ear, Adrien turning his head to see the kwami perched on his shoulder. "But I suppose that isn't really so surprising."

Not really seeing any need to agree or disagree, Adrien moved on. Fiddling with the bottom edge of the oversized t-shirt he was in (maybe it was one of Tom's? He had been shirtless at the time of his last transformation), he toed out into the hall, supposing there were only so many places one could have wandered to.

Making his way down the stairs, he stopped by the side door, peering out the windows to verify that he was on the right track.

Satisfied, he pushed his way out into the early morning sunlight, blinking away the brightness as he peered across to the setup of tables and chairs lining the street. They belonged to the small café beside the bakery, but that fact didn't seem to be deterring Gabriel from sitting at the nearest one.

He had his elbow leaning on the tabletop, hand in his tousled hair. He was, indeed, wearing a suit jacket, but it was wrinkled. As were his slacks.

His button-up was visibly untucked and a lit cigarette dangled from between his lips.

Initially uncertain—because this man didn't seem a bit like his father—Adrien loitered outside the door, before ultimately deciding he was being ridiculous and making his way over to the table as well. His father had to know he was there by then, but didn't look up. Not even as he took the seat beside him.

Upon closer inspection, he noted that his father's face was unshaved, the bags beneath his eyes heavy and red.

It took a few moments, but Gabriel did eventually lean back, taking his cigarette between two fingers and tapping the ashes away before replacing it at his lips.

Adrien cleared his throat. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," Gabriel replied, very obviously breathing in the smoke from his cigarette. "I don't anymore, in any case. Just when I'm… overly stressed."

"Oh."

"Hm, yes, 'oh' is quite right."

Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, Adrien eventually distracted himself with lowering Plagg down in front of him, rubbing between those tiny little ears. His father didn't seem the least bit bothered by the kwami.

"When did you quit?" Adrien asked suddenly. "Smoking, I mean."

"The first or the second time?"

"Both?"

"First time in the late 50s. Second time just before you were born."

"Sounds like you probably have lung cancer."

"I hardly think you're one to be lecturing me on my deadly vices."

"Touché…" Adrien took a deep breath. "How old are you really, then?"

Dropping his cigarette, Gabriel rubbed it into the patio with the heel of his shoe before pulling another from his pocket, putting it between his lips, and lighting away. Adrien frowned, but didn't comment.

"I turn 98 this year," Gabriel finally replied. It was a number that Adrien didn't really know what to do with. Left him speechless, really. So, naturally—when he did find his voice again—he went for what seemed most appropriate.

"You look pretty good for such an old geezer."

"Gee, thanks."

"Two away from 100 though. That's got to be some kind of milestone. Does that make you, like, _under_ the hill then? You'll have to throw a big party, invite all your friends. Well, a small party then I guess. Are you and Marinette's mom friends? You can have at least one person there other than me if she is. I bet Nathalie would come too, if you ordered her to."

Gabriel side-eyed him. "You think you're so cute."

"I think a lot of things."

"You and your mother have that in common."

"Is that a compliment?"

Gabriel breathed in more smoke. "No, I'd say it wasn't."

Adrien scrunched up his nose in annoyance. "Did mom know how old you are? Or did you lie to her?"

"I'd never lie to your mother," he reasoned simply. "She wasn't exactly a spring flower herself."

Adrien narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"None of your business."

"She's _my_ mother."

"That doesn't mean you need to be privy to the intimate details of our life together. Unless you're into that sort of thing."

Adrien opened his mouth to object, but then thought better of it. "Was that a joke?"

"I don't joke, Adrien."

"No, of course not." He sighed, deciding that it might be a better idea to change the subject. "I remember a little bit about last night. About you… being there. Do… Do you have a kwami?"

Gabriel scoffed lightly, once again side-eying Adrien, who looked down at the table and pushed back on the redness filling his cheeks. Shaking his head, Gabriel reached down and held open his jacket. A moment later, a blue, bulbous head adorned with a red spot and three feather-like antennas poked up and looked right at him.

The kwami then peered up to Gabriel, who ignored it, before it rose fully out of the jacket.

It was all blue in color, with long, peacock tail feathers spotted on their ends with red and black bordered circles. Settling down on the table, it shook itself before pawing its way closer.

"Adrien, Duusu," Gabriel said shortly, still puffing away.

"Hello, Adrien," Duusu greeted. High pitched voice, sounded neither male nor female. "We've met before, but I doubt you remember." Duusu smiled. "You were a very cute baby. I-I mean, you're cute now, for a human adolescent. B-But, I mean, as an infant you were-"

"Blah, blah, blah," Plagg interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Just spit it out already."

"I'm just trying to be friendly, Plagg," Duusu scolded, frowning.

"Yeah, don't be a jerk, Plagg," Adrien agreed, poking the tiny cat atop his swollen head. "Is that any way to be talking to another kwami? One you haven't even seen in years, probably?"

"What do I care?" Plagg turned away. "I've spent far too much time in close quarters with that blue thing these last hundred years. Can't say the break I got was quite enough."

Tail drooping, Duusu frowned. Adrien frowned too.

"Why do you have to be like that? Do you get along with _any_ other kwami?"

"Tikki and I get along just fine," he said simply.

Adrien huffed. While Plagg, apparently over the conversation already, looked Adrien up and down appraisingly before putting his attention on Gabriel.

"You don't happen to have any cheese on you by chance, do you Gabe?"

Stormy eyes narrowing, Gabriel cast Plagg the steeliest, nastiest look Adrien had ever seen. It was enough to cause Duusu to shrink, Plagg's ears drooping—as though he'd made a horrible mistake—before he shied defensively into Adrien's hand.

"It's not his fault," Adrien said swiftly, any and all niceness evaporating from his own tone as he cupped Plagg protectively in his hands. "Don't treat him like it is."

Gabriel's chilly stare remained, flicking first to Adrien and then to the silver ring on his finger.

"That ring is dangerous," he stated harshly a second later. "It's suicidal to wear it."

"That's my decision, not yours."

Gabriel growled, once again stamping out his cigarette on the patio. "I've seen what it does—it _destroys lives_. And not just yours. You're foolish to keep using it."

"I have a responsibility."

"It's already killed you once!" he snapped suddenly, slamming his hand down on the table. "What more reason do you need?!"

"But I'm not dead."

"You were! It's only because of _that_ ring," he gestured to the one on Adrien's other hand, "and a complicated spell Fu put on it, that you aren't! You should be dead! Last night should have killed you!"

"But it didn't."

"It did!" Gabriel persisted, breathing hard. "You died in my _arms_ , Adrien."

"If I _was_ dead, I died doing what I'm supposed to."

"You say that, but she nearly died with you," he hissed. It was a claim that Adrien didn't know how to refute, especially since he hardly remembered any specifics from the night before. "Don't you understand? Ladybug and Chat Noirs are linked. I know what you are—that you're 'soul mates.' That such a thing is used as an excuse to push you both together. So you can both rise up only to inevitably fall.

"Ladybugs never recover after that. Most of them die themselves from the shock or heartbreak. And those that do keep going _never_ heal. I've seen it—I've watched the results of your 'decision' in action. It's all heroics and good deeds until you have to watch someone you love be tortured by the loss of another. Until you have to suffer the grief yourself. Only then do you realize how little the world matters, not when your own family is ripped to shreds."

"Ladybug and I know the risks of what we do."

"And what about the consequences?" Gabriel pointed a harsh finger back at the bakery. "Do you know how many years it took Sabine to so much as get up on her own in the morning after my brother died? Your mother and I spent _months_ forcing her to take care of herself, forcing her to _live_. Is that what you want for Marinette? Is that the kind of pain you want her to go through?"

"Our pain doesn't matter," Adrien replied resolutely. "Hawkmoth _has_ to be stopped." Before he did more damage to the world than what he already had.

"There are others perfectly capable of stopping him. People other than you."

"Who? You? By yourself? While you're clearly experienced, I find it hard to believe that you can take on Hawkmoth alone." It was impossible, really. Ladybug purified the evil. Chat Noir protected her. They were _necessary_.

"I'd be much more capable if I wasn't constantly caught up trying to protect you from your own decisions!"

Adrien snapped. "I never asked for your protection!" Whether Gabriel's interference had saved him on multiple occasions or not, he hadn't asked for such things. And he wouldn't allow his _father's_ choices to be held over his head.

Gazes locked, they both breathed hard as they stared one another down. Adrien remained steadfast, while Gabriel pursed his lips in frustration. Seconds passed, Gabriel eventually scoffing before whipping around. Yanking another cigarette from his pocket, he reached for his lighter.

"Stop it," Adrien scolded, grabbing the cigarette from his father's hand and tossing it away. "You're old… You should watch out for your health." Turning away, he pulled Plagg into his lap and stared out across the street.

They said nothing for many minutes, Adrien refusing to look back even as his father's breathing echoed beside him.

Words had to be spoken eventually, however.

"I know you won't listen to me," Gabriel started, voice low. "My brother never did. And I suppose Chat Noirs wouldn't be Chat Noirs if they heeded reason."

Adrien ignored the insult.

"That aside, I know…" He paused, breath becoming shaky. "I know I have no right to expect that you'd listen to me." An admission that startled Adrien, his head turning to look to his father before he could stop himself.

Gabriel was staring at the table, however, expression unreadable.

"I'll be honest, your mother and I… We never intended to have you. Neither of us were fit to be parents. Too many problems of our own; too much baggage. But, for a while, things were good." He chuckled. "For once. So when we found out about you, we decided to give it a try—despite knowing better.

"We didn't have Tom the way Sabine did—didn't have that balance. But we were determined to love you. To try." He sighed. "Intentions, however, don't excuse reality.

"I was hardly a capable father when your mother _was_ around, let alone when she wasn't. I know that. And while I wish I could do better by you, I know that I never will. It doesn't matter how precious you are to me, I am… not fit.

"Neither of us, not your mother nor I, deserved the privilege of raising you.

"But you're here, and you're my son, and I… I do love you. I don't expect that sentiment to be returned—I haven't earned it-"

"Father…"

"-but that doesn't make the fact of it any less true. You are… the most important. Of everything in my life, every experience I've had, nothing beats you." He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "It's an experience one can't even begin to fathom, the first moment you see your child. The first time you hold them. Realizing that something so small, and so helpless, has the power to completely destroy everything that you are.

"I didn't even know I was capable of loving something as much as I love you. Not until the second I met you. And I just… I still don't understand how it's possible to fall so completely in love so quickly. It's terrifying. To this very day it is.

"Yet, despite that, I treated you… horribly. I convinced myself I was trying to protect you, but I think I was only trying to protect myself. I still am—I can't help it.

"Nothing in the world scares me more than you do."

Adrien wanted to say something, but how did he even go about doing so? It wasn't an apology, what his father had said, but it was a truth. And like anything that raw, he wanted to hold it tight whether it did him harm or not.

"You don't have to believe me," Gabriel continued a second later. "And I have no right to ask anything of you, even if I wish with everything that I am that you'd just… do what I say." He peered up at the sky, blinking rapidly as he did. "But I do have one favor to ask."

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye.

"The first time I held you, you cried in my arms," he said quietly, "and the last time, I felt you take what I thought would be your last breath." Another tear dropped across his cheek as he turned, their gazes meeting. "I just want to hold you, Adrien.

"I just want to feel your heart beating."

Gaping, Adrien sat, shocked, and watched his father fall apart in front of him. Until, like the wind itself came up and pushed him, he stood swiftly to his feet and stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around his father's neck and burrowed his face in that familiar silver-blonde hair. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to shove everything else aside for just that moment.

His father's arms reached around him as well, holding tight despite the obvious tremble that wavered through his limbs. His hands were fists at the back of Adrien's shirt, face buried against his collar. If there were more tears, Adrien didn't bother highlighting them. He simply stood, bent over his father and forgiving, for the moment, all the reasons he should be refusing to offer this small comfort.

He let his father shake silently against him and said absolutely nothing.

They stayed that way for a long time, the morning sun dropping down upon them and beginning to dry what remained of the heavy rain from the day before. It was still early, so the street remained relatively empty, but even if it hadn't, Adrien doubted that—for once—his father would even care.

And they might have stayed that way longer, were it not for the one person Adrien couldn't ignore snapping him back to the real world.

The scream tore his focus from his father, tore even his father's focus from him. Their attention twitched immediately to the bakery.

Released from his father's hold in the same moment he pulled away, Adrien tore back into the bakery, taking the stairs two at a time before bursting into the living room.

Sabine and Tom were already leaving their bedroom, while Nino and Alya were awake and watching helplessly as Marinette hunched in on herself and kept screaming. She had her hands cupped up by her chest, her eyes screwed shut and expression pulled into a look of sheer agony.

Rushing to her side, Alya slid clumsily out of the way as Adrien placed himself beside her. He grabbed hold of her wrists and held tight, pushing as many comforting thoughts her way as he possibly could.

"Mari, look at me! Mari, it's okay!" He could feel her panic—feel the phantom pain that echoed as much in his chest as it did hers. "I'm here! I'm right here! I'm okay!" Her head shook and she refused to look at him, her screams dying into tortured sobs as she tried to reach up and grip her uneven hair with her hands. Adrien didn't let her, however. He held her wrists tight enough to cause new pain, doing whatever he could to pull her back to him.

"I'm alive, Love. I'm right here," he murmured, leaning in and placing soft kisses on her forehead. Down her temples and over her tear-stained cheeks. "It's okay. Everything's okay." He held her hands to his chest, forcing her to feel his heart beating.

"A-A-Adrien?" she managed to choke out, finally opening her eyes as she peered up at him.

"I'm right here," he whispered. "I'm with you."

Whimpering out, she pushed into him, gripping at his shirt as she laid her head against his collar.

She cried, Adrien wrapping his arms around her body and crushing her against his own.

He didn't let her go.

So long as he still breathed, he'd never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter was a bit late, guys! Hope you enjoyed. Going on hiatus for a while now, but I'll be back again soon for Part 3 ;D
> 
> Oh, and sorry if there are a lot of mistakes--was trying to get this out to you guys as soon as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr - SKayLanphear - If you do, you'll get sneak peeks at upcoming chapters, get to see the fanart people have made (which is amazing!), etc...
> 
> Leave reviews if you can :D


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